9/4/2017 Poetry by Jade Homacliff vs girl It’s just that your dog doesn’t bark when I stumble in through your front door. She still looks at your father through eyes of uncertainty, but gives me a million free passes to your bedroom. I think she knows I am the only thing standing between you and the ledge most days. It’s just that sometimes, I swear you are going to lean in and kiss me, even though you are with him now. But he is more wind than parachute, and you are more bird than girl. The type that flies into windowpanes. Which leaves me the rope. So now we’re teetering on the edge. It’s just that you said I am your favorite human. If the whole world ended and you could save one person, it would be me. You borrow my jean shorts and wear them without any underwear. You make a habit of drinking from the same straw as me. Even when there’s a whole box of them sitting in a kitchen drawer. You suck on my fingers and play it off as a joke. But I never laugh. So you try stand up instead, but every punchline ends with you killing yourself. And now you are lying at the bottom of the cliff and it seems so stupid to care about who actually had you in the end – me or him – because we lost sight of you in the process. It’s just that I take five-minute showers and yours last an hour. I guess what I’m saying is we would even out the water bill. she is This is how I want to explain it to everyone right now. She is the only one who would get my coffee order right out of everyone I know. She is the light and the dark and the shadows flickering in a hallway. She is the taste of peach gummies from the local convenience store at 3:28 pm in her bedroom underneath the covers. She is that feeling when you go over a loop on a roller coaster and your stomach does a flip just because she smiled at you yesterday. She is two arms holding you tight and forehead kisses and warm sweatshirts and chocolate colored eyes. She is tangled up hair in a ponytail you want to run your fingers through. She is solid, real, an oak tree of solidarity. She is taller, her hands are bigger, her fingers longer. She wraps herself around you, and the world disappears. She is bruised knuckles and a sharp mouth and hickey marks and fireworks that look pretty just before they implode. She is Pop Rocks in your mouth every time you taste her, and most nights you can still smell the essence she left behind - woods and dirt and soot. She is the feeling when you’re kissing someone and they smile against your lips. She is a pair of Doc Martens. She is words stumbling over each other in excitement. She is the goddamn sun. She is the safest I have ever felt in my entire life. Once my favorite poet said, “She does not remind me of anything; everything reminds me of her.” She is you. mermaids and mountains “When in conversation, Do you listen, Or do you just wait to talk?” - Take my hand, come dance with me Let’s waltz our way through this wind-up Jewelry box, we’re both stuck in - We’re all tap dancing around our problems And putting pink camo on the elephant in the room A disgrace to our army - And I know that you are trying If you weren’t, you’d be dead But here’s what I think: - Maybe we’re all just mermaids, trying to climb mountains Getting high on dreams that will kill us Slow dancing to heavy metal in the night - And we live on ramen and Times New Roman Twelve point, double spaced Your fingers will change the world someday - I will stand nose to nose, no no’s for an answer So don’t try to tell me I should shut up and listen When my generation is the last hope that you’ve got - And the mountains don’t stand a chance Not with all the broken boys and broken girls Trudging on with shredded fish tales - We sold our lungs so we could speak And you still have the audacity to cover your ears It’s finally the children’s turn - Take my hand, come hide with me In the bomb shelter, supposed to kill each other Where are your silver tongued politicians now - Kiss me, hit me, punch me, breathe me Drag me to the ground You need me - Maybe we’re all just dragons, trying to ride the waves Breathing in, breathing out, quoting things we’d never say Jazz swinging like puppets whose hands don’t hold the strings - And I thrive on touch and pretentious poetry Write it, mail it, my name in fine print You want to change the world with me - And we will fight, wrist to wrist, hands held to the sky We tried to warn you, but the duct tape on our mouths Was your very own cruel irony - And the waters don’t stand a chance Not with all the salty tears from infant skin Of the kids who learned to swim too fast - They glorify it, romanticize it Anxiety, depression, suicide The works - And I am not here to tell you beautiful words This is the people screaming, the children crying And how nothing will ever be the same - For the kids with the red marks, passed out in the hallways And this is all your fault So wipe that stupid smile off your face - I am not a mermaid, and I am not a dragon But my skin and bones are made of steel And I am here to protect the broken the truth about Santa the truth about Santa is that I don’t believe in him I’m a cynic, a skeptic that girl sales people hate and I am usually right I like to sleep with facts and figures and the word “proof” because I’m not a sucker, some wide-eyed believer my mother tells me I see the worst in people; she says I need to be more positive I tell her I’m positive that people are assholes when I was seven, I always wondered why ads worked on so many adults I couldn’t understand how someone could keep falling for the same stupid shit eleven years later, and I’m just now grasping that it never makes sense until you’re the one being played crawling back to that same mouth, dreaming of my name on your tongue, getting lost in the total upheaval your absence carved out within me I finally get it now: some people never change but it can be hard to see that when they play your heart like a string instrument you never get told about how difficult it is to say, “no.” or warned about the feeling when you want to believe in someone with every fiber of your being, but you just can’t it’s always easier in concept, to yell at the tv screen, “leave them, leave them, leave them!” it seems so cut and dry it seems so basic it seems so easy to spot the bad guy until she is wearing your face and here is what I want you to know, my March girl, my piece of sunshine, my clash of teeth and skin, I don’t believe in most things: Diet Coke, Santa, or that you really cared but, oh God, did I believe in you flight risk we have so much baggage, our first date would have to take place in an airport terminal but I’m okay with that if you are letting you go feels like not showering. it feels like missing sleep. it feels too much like losing my balance until I don’t know who I am anymore. letting you go is just the easy way out of my screwed up, complicated maze of feelings. making you stay feels like nostalgia it feels like holding onto something so tight until I lose my circulation. it feels too much like not being what either of us needs. making you stay is just another outlet to punish myself with and I don’t deserve that. letting you go is saying goodbye to my happiness making you stay is clinging onto the bruises on my throat both result in having to convince you to love me ![]() Bio: Jade is a passionate dog lover, pasta enthusiast, and anxious poet. At age 18, she has already written over 50 poems and several short stories. Jade currently resides in Pennsylvania with her dog, Indie, and will be attending university in several months. Comments are closed.
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