#shauna writes

[blame-it-on-the-bbc]

a short poem about trying to write about my own goddamn uterus

little

blue

line on my screen

wants “my uterine lining” to be

the far more detached “the

uterine lining.” Fucking

hell, the patriarchy.

[blame-it-on-the-bbc]

fine fine fine let’s

talk about the future. I

would like a cute desk and daily

smile from someone kind.

[blame-it-on-the-bbc]

You know I guess this makes me human, 

crying about something as mortal as death.

i guess i’d be inanimate without fear.

[blame-it-on-the-bbc]

Walk

My shadow grabs my

hand. I will walk myself home,

And tuck myself in.

[blame-it-on-the-bbc]

Villanelle of Past Regrets

It came and went.

Like a passing warmth in October air

I felt your presence as discontent.

/

Bring forth the supplement!

It, at least, gives something of a care;

Your love, it came and went

/

Even as I gave consent-

Your golden words all braided in my hair-

I felt your presence as discontent.

/

I hate to carry such a tired lament

As is our memory of old affair;

It came and went.

/

In truth, I’ll miss your grand intent (!)

But still I doubted here and there

and felt your presence as discontent.

/

There is no way to circumvent

the damage of time, although unfair,

it came and went. The truth is now

I feel your presence as discontent.

[typicalbandgeek]

They used to tell me I spoke with grace, I was admired for the gospel I spilled in ink on these pages. They used to tell me I was going somewhere. I was talented, smart, and dedicated. That was all you needed to be. Well, that and voiceless. I could write what I pleased, but to speak it would be sinful. As if my voice was poison. Now they give me meek smiles and disappointed eyes. I could have made a name for myself. I could have gone farther than anyone else in this godforsaken house. I was their hope. But they put all their eggs in one basket and that split the seams. I’ve become something they’d feared for years. I’m a mirror to them, forcing them to see what I’ve had to stare at for 18 years. Defeat. Resignation. Battered souls. Now that they see in me what I’ve seen in them all these years, they’re choking on those condemned words I used to write.

4am thoughts at 10pm

[blame-it-on-the-bbc]

an apology: to you, from me

"I'm sorry if I've wronged you in some way that you were once too scared to confront me with and that I was too blind to see. The truth is, we fell apart long before either of us opened our eyes. It just never occurred to me that I had anything to apologize for in our falling out; the leaves do not apologize for changing in autumn, and I never meant to abandon you in the cold."

[blame-it-on-the-bbc]

The nurses office is kindof a peaceful place.

If you can get past the puke-yellow walls, there’s a border of stars and moons and suns stretched below the ceiling

There are sounds of clicking keys, running fans

Soft voices; teachers voices

Speaking of plans and not lectures

Speaking of students and not History

Of spouses and not chemistry

Of reminders and not the quadratic formula

Muffled voices, soft voices

Clicking keys

Scratching pens

Soft

Muffled

Voices

Stars

Moon

Sleep