i spoke to him
the night he got a B-
on the quiz and he
was laughing while he said
“i’m the failure kid”
and asked me to pretend i didn’t hear
his voice break, just a little
bit
we were sitting next to each other
in lecture hall and she said
“but of course, i’m crazy," and
despite being one of the strongest people i know,
almost cried in front of everyone when i said
"i don’t think you’re crazy at all.”
what were we supposed to be?
our test grades, our extra-curricular activities,
the sharp knives of our parents threatening
over our heads
were we the nights we stayed up late
doing terrible things to our wrists, our thighs, anywhere,
as long as it hurt so we could prove that we were
in control of our own skin, even if addicted,
were we the meals skipped, were we
the hours of procrastination because everything we did
had to be perfect,
were we the self-hatred
that bubbled against our teeth
when we saw something else we had ruined, were we
the anger that came from nowhere, the
words we didn’t mean? what exactly were we, in
all of our elastic body,
even supposed to be?
we were all of this. but we were also
survival methods.
we couldn’t get out of bed, but we would spend our nights
sleepless, just for a friend, we did everything in our power to please
our parents, and when they couldn’t keep us,
we made our own families out of books or strangers
or whatever we could, we made ourselves soft even when
it was hard just breathing, we made ourselves kind just to get back
at those who were mean, we wrote poetry that had incongruent
rhyme scheme, we made art that was full of our dreams.
what were we? we were the dark nights, we were
chewing our own marrow out from ourselves but
we also were car rides for ice cream at one in the morning, we were
bonfires where our secrets came floating out with fireflies,
we were beaches and kites and singing in public in six-part
off-key harmony, we were dancing in tandem over crosswalks,
we were the punch that protected our best friend, we were
the gasp of seeing a dog on the street, the wiggle getting into skinny
jeans, the bike path we took while discussing philosophy. we were
shopping trips, collective writing projects, camping in the woods,
we were the collage of beautiful people on our walls but we were
three-dimensional, we were swingsets and climbing trees
and glow-in-the-dark stars on our ceiling
and maybe we were the blood, the bruise, the scream
but we were also the after. we were also
the healing.
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