girls are all curves and soft edges,

sweet sides and sharp tongues,

slipping bra straps, and hair pulled taut while picking split ends.

girls are chipped nail polish,

unpolished grace and occasional elegance,

all unsurmounted emotion,

every love, is the first true and complete love they’ve ever had.

every break up, is the last time they will ever love again.

girls are vanilla and chlorine,

flowers on summer days with the warmth and brightness to match,

exceptions to the rule, an unwavering capacity to be cruel,

you will get fucked up either way,

there is no salvation to a woman scorned.

girls are hell,

they are seven levels of hell hath no fury,

they will dig their fingertips into your heart,

and leave red stained lips on every surface of your skin-

every smell will remind you of them,

every kiss will have their name in it.

girls are absolute heartbreak,

they will never ask first,

they are unpredictable, 

they are knives on the tips of pointe shoes,

they will dance on every feeling you have

until either you or they give out

(and until you both have scars to show for it).

girls are all incomprehensible passion,

misdirected affection and absurd dedication.

they are all curves and soft edges,

they are all angles and hard lines.

the last voice on the phone late at night,

and the first text in the morning.

to answer your question,

it is more than understandable to love a girl,

and harder than you’ll ever know to forget.

q&a sessions - m.s.

poem poetry

let’s reduce ourselves down,

peel layer by layer until

we are just child drawn chalk outlines on the streets we grew up on,

give everything until you have nothing left

until you fade into everything else 

until we make up the black silhouettes on the foreground of the horizon.

i want to believe that we are something bigger than we are,

perpetually living in the concept of the brightness of a star before it dies,

the spark of a firework before it dissipates,

this is me and you, and you and me,

dancing in the dark, hoping in the dusk,

praying for the beginning of our lives

before we can kiss our old dreams goodbye.

let’s redefine ourselves,

let’s redesign our confines, 

we are everything we could ever hope to be,

and nothing we were ever told we would end up being.

you are not your limits,

i am not my boundaries,

i only know what i’ve been taught:

this town can never hold the vastness of what i need,

the extent of all the dreams i could ever dream.

i will remember you as everything i thought i needed, and nothing i ever thought i could live up to be.

we are standing toe to toe with giants,

blessed with the pipe dreams shoved down our throats as infants,

we are only ticking time bombs waiting to explode

from all of the potential left sleeping deep inside of us.

we exist on the edge of everything we’ve ever known,

waiting to fall off and enter the void 

in hopes of coming out with a place to call home.

i will send you postcards on paper airplanes,

signing p.s. i love yous on the precipice of greatness,

tell the ocean i’m home,

tell the sky i’ll be there soon,

when we sink, when we dissipate, when the smoke clears,

i will remember you as the first placebo and the last love letter i ever wrote.

let’s never settle, let’s be the best we could ever be, 

let’s love until the seams break, 

until the thread runs out, 

until we are just the fabric of everything that ever stitched us together.

postcards from the girl you used to know - m.s.

poetry poem

l’esprit de l’escalier

the words that should’ve been said, but weren’t

the term for the empty silence that fills ears when you don’t know what to say, and spend the whole rest of the day knowing the exact, perfect thing

a word so melancholic, only the french could’ve thought of it

the spirit of the staircase, the spirit of my words never reaching your heart, the spirit of everything that was never spoken, 

the words that got caught and entangled in one large net before they could ever swim to where they were meant to be

you were my spirit, the one who haunted my empty space, the quiet moments that filled those large remainders in my day

i love you, je t’aime, wo ai ni, saranghae, te amo

so many different languages to say such simple words, yet they remain unspoken every day every moment

you let go of my hand, and i struggled for the words to hold your grasp, but they never came

i waited for you to say something to me, but only silence was all that could stand to remain

the moment i walked away was when all the regrets flooded by, 

my mind going from an impenetrable ship 

to a sinking wooden boat with the hole that was never accounted for

i love you, je t’aime, wo ai ni, saranghae, te amo

so many different ways to say something so fragile so meaningful, yet will make up the words we write on our wrists

the scars that cover our hearts

the songs that we hide in the midsts of mountains of computer files

what i should’ve told you floods my heavy heart every time

i see your face, or you post a status update,

but when i am with you,

my mind escapes it’s gilded untaken care of cage,

and in that moment,

the three things i know to be true are:

1. i know that i don’t believe any words can describe how i feel about you, and the way you smile, and the tiny things that escape you

2. i know that every story is a ghost, and i know you are mine

and three,

all i know,

is that in every moment when our hands barely graze and our eyes briefly meet, few things make me happier than when i am with you.

l’esprit de l’escalier - m.s.

poem ahhhh it's so old now poetry