I am the keeper of your secrets.
I am the one that knows why you laugh,
and why you cry.
I am the one that knows why they left you,
and why they said goodbye.
I am the one that knows what eats you up at night.
I am the one, like a torch, that carries the light.
I am the one that knows about your mother,
your brother,
that guy you like,
and why you haven’t finished school.
Like high school,
you no longer think I’m cool.
-S.
I’m helpful.
I give good advice.
I listen when you talk.
I keep your pace when we walk.
I keep a playlist of your favorite songs.
I make sure my stories aren’t that long.
I drive because you can’t take it.
It’ll last longer to be needed,
than to be loved.
I fucking hate it.
-S.
I talk to dad about aliens.
I talk to my co-worker about her cancer diagnosis.
I talk to mom about love.
I talk to my brother about none of the above.
I talk to myself about failure.
I try to lose myself in nature.
Friendships get stranger and stranger.
I search for meaning.
I look for signs.
More than anything,
I just feel behind.
-S.
You drop me off like luggage.
Pick me back up when you want to.
You shelve me like a book.
You let me collect dust like a nook.
You take from me like a crook.
Someone new and exciting,
that was all it took?
-S.
I cut my hair.
I nair my legs.
No one likes a girl that begs.
I clean out my closet.
I eat more eggs.
No one likes a girl that begs.
I keep myself busy,
I increase my progress by a few pegs.
No one likes a girl that begs.
-S.
We had some laughs,
didn’t we?
Thick as thieves,
weren’t we?
We could try again,
couldn’t we?
What am I supposed to do now?
What about me?
–S.
Soulcrusher,
you leave destruction in your wake.
Heartstopper,
my breath, you take.
Jawbreaker,
every smile, a mistake.
Twister,
fever blister,
you do nothing, but make me ache.
-S.
Will we stay friends?
Maybe.
Are we at the end?
You bet, baby.
Does he love me?
No.
Should I stay?
Go.
Is there someone else?
It’s all a little hazy.
Is she prettier?
Stop being crazy.
What about wittier?
Look, it will get better, but it’s about to get shittier.
–S.
I’m standing in the middle of a field,
making wishes,
dandelion one,
dandelion two,
dandelion three.
I wish slow.
I wish fast.
I wish for us to last.
I wish on dandelion four,
dandelion five,
dandelion six,
but there is no quick fix.
I’m standing in the middle of a field,
reaching for dandelion seven,
eight,
and nine,
I can still make you mine.
–S.
I collect your goodbye.
I place it with the others.
I collect the darkness.
And all that it smothers.
I collect the grief.
And my own disbelief.
I collect the dust.
And the rust.
–S.
The Messy Middle 🖤 