your vision, your voice
Boy with short hair
Girls with long
Boys with trucks,
Girls with dolls.
And I just sit here lost.
They say I must choose one,
But I can’t.
Boys love girls,
Girls love boys,
Girls love girls,
Boys love boys.
But I can’t seem to feel anything at all.
In a world full of love and romantics,
It’s easy to feel lost.
When everyone’s talking about crushes and dates,
I feel lost.
Boys chase after girls,
Girls chase boys,
Boys chase boys,
Girls chase boys.
And I’m lost.
Ungendered,
Not feeling anything for anyone at all.
I’m from a dusty mirror, above an old clock, from a stuffed animal and bought blanket, I am from an angry household, and a four-room house, I am from a big oak tree that once got cut down, whose branches I would climb when it was windy, I am from a necklace engraved with an s, and a blue bracelet I never take off, from the Canelos and Richer family, I am from an angry family, filled with rage and depression, and from an independent family, I am from Saint Ignatius Church, I am from Betty and Ken Richer, from pizza and ice cream, from a ten-k race, that I finished with pride, from wanting to learn Spanish when I was young, I am from those moments in my colorful past, and the memories I’d wished I had forgotten all those years ago.
I’m from a bat and ball
from playing catch.
I’m from yellow lights
and bright yellow lights.
I’m from dark oak tree
that froze to death.
I’m from my mom’s gooey chocolate chip cookies,
to my dad’s instrument talents.
I’m from A’s in school
to athletes.
I’m from a garden with tomato plants
all juicy and red.
I’m from Pizza Night every Friday,
and going to my grandparent’s house for Christmas.
I am from dreams
to reality.
I used to be inpatient, but now I listen. I used to be ecstatic but now I’m tired. I used to be full of wishes for myself, but now my wishes are no longer my own. I used to hang out with people whenever I wanted but now it’s just me all alone. I used to watch movies and shows, but now there is no time for those. I used to be up all night laughing but now I am up all night hopping. I used to hope for the day to get longer, but now that is the last of my worries. I used to cry alone, but now there is no time for tears, only regret.
1. When you wake up
On Christmas morning you
feel a rush of
joy runs through your body
as you walk into
Your living room and
See all of the presents
Lined up in a row
But just one catches
Your eye with a glistening glow
Could it be
Could it really be
I have only ever
Dreamed of this
But then you realize
Something
Now you wish
This was a dream
Please be a dream
Please be a dream
But it was not
The tag
It said
From Santa
To Ella
I felt like my heart
Sunk to my stomach
Then all of a sudden
My mom yelled
Time to open
PRESENTS!
Then it went black.
I pop off my scalp like the lid of a cookie jar.
It’s the secret place where I keep all my dreams.
Little balls of sunshine, all rubbing together like a bottle of kittens.
I reach inside and pull one out.
It’s warm and tingly.
But there’s no time to waste! I put it in a bottle to keep it safe.
And put the bottle on the shelf with all the others.
Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts, all in a row.
My collection makes me friends.
Each bottle a star to make amends.
Sometimes my friend feels a certain way.
Down comes a bottle to save the day.
Night after night, more dreams.
Friend after friend, more bottles.
I blow dust off my bottle caps.
It doesn’t feel like time has elapsed .
My empty shelf could use some more.
My friends look through my locked front door.
Finally all done, I open up and in come my friends.
They come in, in such a hurry. Do they want my bottles that much?
I frantically pull them from the shelf, One after the other.
Holding them out to each and every friend.
Each and every bottle.
But each time I let them go, It shatters against the tile between my feet.
Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts in shards all over the floor.
They were supposed to be for my friends, my friends who aren’t smiling.
They’re all shouting, pleading, something.
But all I hear is echo, echo, echo, echo,
Inside my head.
I’m from the white dining table, the paint fading away over time,
From the yellow dresser and the chandelier I always wanted to touch,
I am from a castle as tall as the sky, pillars touching the clouds,
And the bright light shining through the dull windows,
I am from the mighty oak tree, still standing after all these years
Whose limbs are like hands reaching down around me,
I am from my stuffy I slept with every night and my bed that has helped me drift into sleep,
From Schieck and Casteneda,
I am from laughter and kindness
From never giving up
I am from fun Saturday nights together, eating our desserts and watching movies
These are moments in my life I never want to forget.
The fog so dense that thy hawk’s eye can not see
The frog jumps through breathlessly
The trees bow down in amazement
For they have stood there all there life
And have never seen a soul brave enough
To conquer the fog of the swamp
With none but there bare hands
Of thee I sing,
through the hardy mangrove that protects the swamp and
It’s infamous fog coating the trees that bow their heads
Of thee I sing, of thee I sing.