Matchstick Gal

Like death, poetry is a great equalizer.. "Witch, Scholar, Poet, Dreamer.. and the rest" Alyssa | 18 | © | Header and icon credit to: oceanodiario | Business inquiries: [email protected]

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in a way, I’m stuck to you— desperation? equalizing? incompatible? unilateral? I’m trying not to repeat I twist in circles— I could have been a contortionist but mother said that it stunted your growth I think my growth is still stunted I’m stuck at the roots, digging downwards— I could have been a botanist but mother said that I’d grow bored I think I’m still bored no I think I’m still scared of being boring no— I think I’m still boring do I bore you? will you bare it? desperation? equalizing? incompatible? unilateral? will you tell me what to be, where I am, where to go? in a way, i’m stuck to you growth, bore, bare, broken— I’m trying to find clarity is it good or is it glue? is it enough, is it real? is it me or is it you?

a.c

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I miss the me I was when you were around far more than you-- If you find the piece of her you stole away, hiding under your bed, frazzled, shining and happy, send her to me, let her come out to play. I want to live another day,  to part the curtains of the storm and see the light again. I want to breathe without this gauze around my throat, I want to see without this haze hurting my eyes. I want to see her, see me, in her pleasant summer fashion she sported when she was fourteen. Too young to know of hurt and pain, too naive to know it could get worse. If you find her mail her between yellowed pages of an old book, or wrap her tightly with a bow. Send her off with love, and a kiss on the cheek. Remind me of what I am made of.

a.c.

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for awhile i knew the key to happiness. it lied under the creek of a summer sky, or a pale moonlight with the stars still high. it lied in a movie scene, a made up world i prayed to live in, I grew a home in a world I had turned from bricks to walls, from dirt to grass, from lust to love. I held myself in the open space and let out my scream and found it to be silenced-- I shook under the covers of a cold night but knew not of the outside because I was always looking inward, I had engraved the stars in my brain, weaved the pages of prose perfected and prettied by the words of another, and from them rose a home where I could be free,  or where I could forget.

because freedom became synonymous with forgetting, with burying, with growing over the bones of the past and erasing the torment I had learned to know.

I had learned to grow but in it I lost myself. and the grass became weeds, and the weeds walked over me. and the stars dropped down, and the books grew torn, and the air felt stale. and in the silence of the night you would hear a girl scream.

- a.c.

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I used to hate pink.

To h a t e pink. Vibrantly and fully, with a sort of passion you hate someone who wronged you. But pink never hurt me, never wronged me. It just was. The connotation of fluffed women with soft hearts and warm palms filled my body with an uncomfortable sense of resistance. I wasn’t pink. I was blue. I was green. I wasn’t pink and wouldn’t push towards it.

Instead I ran around it, anxiously doubting it. My mother would buy me pink tops with bows and I’d run through the mud with them, tearing the bows to shreds. I wasn’t pink. I couldn’t be. There was a constant need to prove myself to be away from my femininity. I ran to the nearest things that clouded my softness. I was afraid to show weakness— afraid to be a woman.

Until one day it clicked. I had run across the swings in ripped jeans and a torn white tee, only to be mocked for tripping over the grass. A girl move. A girl cry. A girl pain. There was no pink, there was just me.

I sat myself in the leaves and the next day picked myself up. I tied by hair up with some ribbons, tied my laces and brought a pink shirt around my ribs. I laughed and smiled, I blushed my cheeks. I embraced what I was, I loved pink.

I loved pink

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I’m strangely settled lately. The oil and water has separated, and I made my peace with the fact that some ingredients that do not mix are better left unbothered. but there is a ghost in my bones that haunts me, a foreboding voice of pitiful anger— a sensationally rushed purpose. In the mirror I walk tentatively, scared to see the reflection— you cannot hide from what is in front of you— scared to drown— and yet I face her lurid details with little calamity and in the end I pick of the peaces of hurt, anguish pity, pain and have no scars to remember— Isn’t it strange how Alice fell down the rabbit hole, not knowing where she would go? Isn’t it odd how we jump into people, not caring who knows? For once, I jumped into myself, and the waters have not drowned me yet— for once, I have remained settled, and the ocean forgave. The ocean forgave.

elfin victories, a.c.

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there is something irrevocable about admitting i am not okay. i whisper it in the corner of my mind only to be angry to that reality. the thought becomes the seed for truth, and i let it grow into a sycamore tree sprouting waves of sadness to discover soon after i have healed. i garner happy memories, soldiers ready in the first line of the battalion. only to watch them fail, some die and sone retreat. i stand and watch, helpless to the consumption. as soon as i believe it, i become it. there is a preconception of frailty that i cant ignore. i unravel at the thought and my mind attacks my bloodstream. its killing me, i'm killing me. i shudder at the thought. come morning the sun comes out, quietly creeping, disheartened, into the window of my home. i hold my knees to my chest, and in a few hours, the leaves of the storm will fall.

a.c.

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women are invincible, indomitable-- full of love and fury. passion and compassion. we will not stop fighting and we will not go quietly. listen, sit and listen. we can be anything, do anything. we are electic. we are the future.

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shadows stick closer to the earth than we-- (fingerprints never brushed clean)

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we forget: worlds have spun on fingertips, before they revolved around the stars. we forget: wars have been fought in eyes, before they changed this coarse world. we forget: death touches everything, and beauty does not equal immortality. we forget: there are always flames, before something is reborn.

we forget: there is so much to be done, a.c.

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the earth breaks everyday. we kick and we scream and we watch it fall. we storm and we sob and we crumble to bits. help, she whispers please, she mouths. yet she goes on. (how do you live? how do you win?) beneath us is the strongest, the wisest, the eldest. give me strength mother, give me hope– give me the knowledge of another. help me breeze through a year and find myself without a tear– I need to know how to breathe again when the foot of another strangles my mouth.

hope, a.c.

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hello my darlings. holidays can be rough i know. theyre filled with tension, pretending, stress-- or sometimes filled with nothing. regardless, i want you to know that i am in your corner. i love you and i hope you have a wonderful day, and a wonderful new year. god knows we deserve it.

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I see new lives in each freckle above your eye. The way you comb your hair to the side, the way you part your lips in a way that whispers “mine.” I saw the avenue your fingers danced across, the map in your eyes and the way you sigh. I saw the words flow from your stomach and sail through the air. I watched you laugh it away without a single care. In your palms you hold the planets, they stroll around your fingers in an orderly fashion-- never has the universe looked so at ease.    In your toes I awe at the balancing act, books upon books, movies upon movies-- you carry stories of love, loss, life, in every step you take. I see the past roll down your cheek upon the river down south. I see the future grow beneath your roots, itching to find the sun again-- dying to blossom new flowers that go down to your mouth.   I see roads to new countries forged through fire in your veins, a pathway to heaven, an army through hell. I see the way to the end, the start of the beginning. I see the new, the old, the fury. The lethargic, the losing, the winning.   I see new lives in each freckle above your eye, one for each battered child, one for each broken sky.

to you i plead: do not cry, a.c.

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OMG HI HAPPY BIRTHDAY UR MY FAVORITE TUMBLR BLOGGER XOXO 😘😍👏👏👏👏

alexis.... enough

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

thanks guys, you’re super sweet and I appreciate your support and love !

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hello i am 18 today and there are flowers in everything you just need to look 

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I am 18 in a week. It’s washing over me in waves, a cold shock of reality, a “hey kid, you’re not a kid anymore.” The thing is I don’t ever remember being just a kid. I remember being the oldest, the wisest, the smartest, the saddest; I remember the adjective attached to each. There was no just kid. There was a push to become wise before you had the chance to make mistakes, there was the push to be smart before your mother hit the breaks, there was the push to sit still and ignore the cries, there was a push to be anything other than the girl that makes people sigh. And now I’m 18 in a week. It’s wonderful and beautiful but I’ve been 18 for far too long. I wish I could age backwards. I wish I could be the kid. Just the kid. I wish I had room to grow, to flow, to not know what I was and to not know where I went. I wish I had the image of a jump start, I wish I was the image of a shaken cart that cannot hold all it has carried but prevails until it decides somethings are better left behind. I wish I had pondered on the idea of being queen of Jupiter longer. I would rule in between rings. I would kiss no one, I would not have a king. I had sat and planned my life since I had known it would begin and now I am sat wondering where I lost myself along the way. Am I the me I was yesterday? I had stuck to a script and had a grip on myself and my aspirations and practicality since the bills hit my face but am I out of place? I am 18 in a week and as the waves wash over me, I hope not to drown.

adulthood, a.c.

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there is so much to her grip-- the skin kissed lips (god her lips)-- lead to a map. treasure, treasure, seek out the treasure. in her find your answer. there is much more than that, look deeper, see clearer. i know you’re there, my absent lover oh yes, yes, you too have sins! and underneath I see within. meet the mirror, see the soul of who you’ve taken! watch the shadow cast your breath, watch the end. and here, as you send your troops to battle, under her arms we’re nothing but cattle. crisp and raw unearth yourself, stiff and small release your wealth. treasure, treasure, see her lips, collect yourself, collect her, stealth-- if you see fit.  a.c.