Family
TO THE WOMAN YOU WILL BECOME
TO THE GIRL I USED TO BE An older woman's words to the girl she once was. Little girl, I know you're in a hurry. I know you're standing in front of the mirror, studying the woman you're becoming, wishing your hips would widen, your breasts would grow, your face would lose its childish softness, and the world would finally stop treating you like you're too young to understand anything.
By Dianna Hoiland5 days ago in Poets
Ideal
I can't express how long I've waited. How many nights I've dreamed of what our life would be like. We'll get every morning, Pick a favorite outfit for the day. By the end of the day, I'll learn more about you. My gut twists at the way I'll never see you. I want to scream at things for being unfair, But I'm holding onto hope that I'll see you someday. My morning Dawn, I'm not sure if we'll ever meet. I'm scared that I won't be able to bring you here, Nor do I want to be the reason you’re pushed into a hard, unlivable life. I've had dreams of holding you in my arms. So small, so aware, so much like me. Could imagine all the things you would be, From the easy life all through hard times. If I were better, I could bring you here. If my body were better, I wouldn't worry about imbalances getting in the way. What would I give to show you the life I wanted to give. My morning Dawn, don't you hear me? If the world were so much better, I'd have you here by now. I'm scared that at some point, my body will give out. Bleed and ruin itself before I even get the chance to breathe life. But I'm holding onto hope that I'll see you someday. Hear you laughing, hear you crying. Hear you walking all through life. If you don't come as my flesh and my blood I pray that you'll find yourself to me, And let me give the life and guidance you need. My morning Dawn, you're a beautiful dream. I'll wait for you in this life and any one after I'll be strong, be the one you can trust Till we meet, I'll keep you in my heart for all eternally.
By Rachael Anra8 days ago in Poets
Half Truths
My mom’s closer now to seventy than fifty, and I’m more scared about how I’ll be able to pay rent than how I’ll be completely, painfully alone. That’s half true, if at all. It’s like dropping your cigarette on the sidewalk and watching as it bounces into the grass— you stomp on it a little harder because it’s more likely to spread. I guess I’m as scared as I should be. It’s going to kill me, probably. Fear is capable of that. Anyway, the sparks wouldn’t die so I picked it up and put it back onto the concrete where the bottom of my shoe finished the job. She’s been asleep since before I lit it in the first place.
By Olivia Dodge9 days ago in Poets
