delos ~ a poetry collection

mask
why pretend to be a god
when you're really something odd
and being human scares you so much,
you feel like a fraud.
you're not safe in your body.
you're not safe in your home.
you're bright and fake and gaudy
and better left alone.
you attention-seeking,
inescurity-reeking,
falsety-speaking
pathetic weakling.
your nightmare self screams for you to say that to the mirror.
frightened and tired, you pretend you cannot hear her.
when you look at the glass, no time seems to pass, as if caught up in a blur.
and you can't help but let her swarm your mind with "you could be prettier, smarter, better".
you keep your lips from moving. you're silent as the grave.
still and quiet, you don't even fight it, and so, you shall not be saved.
pity sinks through your bones
and you ache to call it your own.
but your mask breaks to say,
"oh no, not today!"
and it cheers as you quietly pray
for a safe place to lay,
kind people to stay,
and to feel more than simply "okay".
but you cannot leave or have any reprieve.
your mask is heavy with the appearance you weave.
put a hand to your lips--
the mask cuts your fingertips.
air comes in shallow sips--
you can't let the mask rip.
bar the holes of the sieve,
you have much more to give.
you have life to outlive.
you have to be passive.
secure your borders,
follow orders--
don't stop to check your wounds.
the mask will dig tighter, it will not feel lighter.
protect yourself now, you will never leave soon.

price of womanhood
red runs through the lace.
it has a bitter pill to taste.
anxiety rushes
when you touch it.
it's just the color, just the thread--
no it's not, your tongue is lead.
golden heart amassed to stone
when you feel blood but not bone.
it's not surprising that what i'm surmising
is the price of womanhood.
a "prize" for being a woman.

not today: hope
kindness and hope
hold your head high.
they stand by your side
when you wish you could die.
they steel your spine
and help you to find
the courage to draw
your boundary lines.
hope holds a grittiness
inside her hands.
she grits her teeth and
stubbornly makes a stand.
she thrums through your heart
and runs through your veins
taking her part
and giving you the reins.
you will live.
you will thrive.
you will laugh
and survive.
hope is defiance
curled up in your skin.
hope is the need
to be with your kin.
hope is the breath
you wish to keep steady.
hope is the feeling
you get when you're ready.
there will always be days
when you don't feel like living.
when it feels like too much
and you will want to give in.
but hope will tilt up your chin
to talk to the skies,
"not today, not today!
today, we will rise!"

you can't lose me
you can't lose something
you never had.
i am not a prize
for good behavior.
i am not a gift
made specifically for you.
i am my own person.
you don't own me.
you never did.
"i don't want to lose you," you tell me.
"too late," i say.

when i can't think
the thoughts are eddying
out of my brain.
hear a pin drop
down the drain.
whispered nothings
hiss through pain.
don't worry, i'll
stay in my lane.

monochromatic
the scales tip in black and gray
like a quill nib
dipping into ink

bled bare
i
bleed relentlessly.
it's a
price of womanhood.
bleed from the
sacred spot where your
thighs meet.
bleed from the
hours you spend shaving and
shaping yourself into the
version
of a woman
best lusted after by men.

it is all we women are good for.
we bleed and bleed and bleed.

we bleed from our shins, from our thighs, from our eyes.
we bleed all the time and tilt our heads to the skies
to pray, to wish, to cry, to shift
our perspectives and try to lift
ourselves out of holes that sink deeper and deeper.
"maybe if i'm bare enough, i'll be a keeper."

we worry more about what's attractive--
about what will be pretty on the off chance that somebody
sees us.
we worry about what's on the surface
because that's what will convince a man to stay.
not the warmth of a woman's heart
or the kindness in her smile.
what makes a woman (to a man) worthwhile
is the warmth between her thighs and the bareness when they part.

chaste
you chastise her
for giving you a chaste kiss
when she can give you nothing else
without risking society's calls
of "impure" and "provacative" and "sinful".

she'll never know
i'd sing a million songs about her,
i'd write a million more.
i'd sing and write and bleed for her,
but, lord, she'll never know.

~
written April 10, 2026

in a moment
it's sad how quickly
she changes from
my mother
to her monster.

~
written April 14th, 2026

teeth like a jurassic beast fit into twenty-first century retainers
my teeth fit together like puzzle pieces
from grinding them so hard.
my jaw is constantly clenched.
i live with my teeth pressed
against each other
in a constant state of stress.
even in my sleep,
they press through
their boundaries.
in my nightmares,
i swear i hear them crunch.

~
written April 14, 2026

nightmare
what fits in a
nightmare?
all i can think of are
memories,
even those that did not
happen.
i
can hardly imagine a
dream.
a "happy thing"
of sleep.
i think of it more as
a nightmare without
turmoil.
even that is hard to
believe.

~
written April 14, 2026

school
stepping into the next class
like it's the next padded room.
the hallways are those of a hospital,
the eyes are those of corpses.
with our words, we say nothing.
that silence is a scream.

~
written April 14, 2026

a love that shouldn't be
white-knuckled grip on
things that should be let go.
fading eyes forgetting
where they're meant to be.
skin cracking from lack of care
when dipped into acid practices
time and time again.

~
written April 14, 2026

"She's just embarrassed"
"She's just embarrassed,"
you say in answer
to the entourage of people
asking about me.
Embarrassed?
Is that what we call
the sting of injustice in our hearts
now?
I'd done nothing wrong
and you had the audacity
to punish me and reduce
the meaning of my actions
to that of a petty child.
Embarrassed?
No, I am ashamed
for you.
You feel the prickling weight
of their incredulous stares on you
when you spew lies.
You know that it means
you were in the wrong.
But you brush it off
with a word about someone else:
"She's just embarrassed."

~
written April 27, 2026