Doodles of Schoolgirl Love
if the world chose to dig up emerald encrusted tombs to find the worlds
secretly encrusted forces
white tabby cats
white-washed gods
(watching you cheat on your 4 month boyfriend when he isn’t looking )
i’ll whisper to you that girls are capable of pulling down heaven to earth
(disco balls, rainbows and all things too bright)
when they fall in love for the first time
clumsy romance rushing into the edge of existence with the rough energy of
a thousand
green
fireflies
(uncontainable, devilish magic thrown in a mason jar)
loving for the first time feels exciting yet dangerous on the skin,
a kitchen knife passed with its sharp end pointing at
you
and yet when a girl is in love, she’s capable of slicing the summer moon in 14 perfectly cut triangles
just so you can stack them in the middle of your grilled cheese sandwich
once she’s in love she will evolve into this
majestic museum of forgetfulness and misplaced keys
yet somehow still
ripping all rusty doors from its hinges
with that federally criminal smile
because she likes the way you text goodnight before she goes to bed
when in love, she will feel earthquakes inside her mary janes
(every time you stop to say hi)
inhaling pink tornados every time when she stutters around you
only because she’s in love everything passing through her sweaty, freckled hands leaves a fluorescent hue
(too beautiful to be toxic waste)(….although it is)
Cherry Gloss Heartbreak
The pieces of our story sink and dissolve
in the bottom of a lipstick-stained plastic cup
Will you remember our greatest kisses when the night turns red?
because I always think about that afternoon when you looked up
cherry-picked your favorite constellations from the sky
chose the one dancing the closest to your rectangular bedroom window
took a second glance and stole a few dandelion-like clouds lurking around
knit them together with
shaking hands
so, it could become blanket
keeping your bony back warm on that night you weren’t quite sure how to
exist
all I ever wanted to do was hold your imperfect heart in my tiny hands
hide it in my heavy leather jacket from the second-hand store
so that in this silly cocoon of first love
you could stay warm and safe from all nasty insults
all the angry voices throwing knives at your bedroom door, demanding a place inside your head
and even now when it’s late and im driving in hopeless circles, miss that irreplaceable lightness
so, I imagine grabbing fistful of shining sunlight and shoving it up my mouth
(crunching on warm yellow rays)
but the only bright thing out there is a flickering yellow McDonalds
which just screams at me that humans produce and produce but have forgotten to
create
(lightless conversation and leftover fries that don’t make my day any sunnier)
In My Kitchenette, I thought of you and I as part of the same story
to make your heart feel brand new,
take someone by their shirtfront and kiss them whole when
cherry popsicles and other sickly-sweet feelings are dripping out of
the old freezer
kiss when everything melts,
matters and everything itches just a little
to feel a whole lot
kiss when your whole kitchen is in flames—-order in disorder
yellow seats glued to the roof with honey
blue flames dancing around the stovetop of your kitchenette
pinkie sized, unsupervised fairies
moving to a slowed down version of your favourite song while your eggs burn
existing and believing in a person implies that you’ve hand-picked the stupidest, bravest pain
you’ve chosen knowing
how one day the dazzling, flying comets of every second you spend together will be a memory as pointy as a knife
painful for the corners of your mouth even
leaving bold marks in your arm
tattoo sleeves of love and other
interplanetary risks
we take when we meet someone’s who’s questionable
but long overdue, proving that
right person wrong time is a myth created to provide oxygen
in an urban jungle of
heartbroken 18-year-old girls drowning in
sad pop songs