nostalgia and floral perfume

Springtime Allergies

Dark, repelling magic encloses me
Rotten, pomegranate pollen covers me
I'm a terrible, poisoned flower

I try to become someone else
Scrub the pollen off of my skin
Be someone that doesn't repel bees
The pollen always grows back

I try, try, try
Get rid of it
I don't want it
The suffocating pollen

I can't deny my nature
Can't change from a lily to rose
No matter how many times I
Paint my purple petals yellow
The paint washes off
And once again, I am
Alone, isolated, different
Not belonging anywhere
I want my petals
Yellow

Talent Show

Shining, sparkling in secret
Gorgeous, glittering, unknown
An inverse mirrorball

She shines brightly, a human star
Precious, pretty, but alone
No one sees her sparkle

Darkness is horrifying, isolating
But comfortable, safe
Better than being seen

She covers her shine
Scared of people watching
Dimming her talent

As a girl, in the school talent show
Mumbling, announcing her name
Trembling, holding her drawing
Minimizing her worth

Now, pretending, concealing
Scratching her glass shards
Feigning that she's average
She never has been
Her uniqueness, broken glass
Makes her shine, shame she's blind

"Hello, I call to no one"

raindrops hit my window in a melodic pattern
wind pushes against my house like it wants to
shatter the fragile glass of my bedroom window

there’s this old video my parents have of me
4 or 5, wearing a bright pink and orange dress
dancing in the rain on my aunt’s balcony
no shoes, just spinning and twirling
a grin on that stranger’s face

7 or 8, sitting on my porch during a storm
coral pink dress, Harry Potter in my lap
taking a break to stand in the rain
feel the wet drops on my face

15, rushing to my mom’s car from school
tilting my head down so the raindrops don’t
coat my glasses, make it impossible to see
violin tucked safely in its case, protected
Paris, Texas playing in my headphones
Harry Potter still tucked in my backpack
because i’d still rather be at Hogwarts

15, laying in bed listening to the rain
falling asleep with daydreams of
anywhere other than here
wanting to run in the rain
not sure where, just run
leave everything behind
become a ghost of the past
a raindrop in a puddle
on my driveway
forgotten, disappeared

a memory in the wind
a stranger in the city of love
tales of witches in my arms
unshackled from perception
an unnamed individual
is it Lula Mae, or Holly Golightly?
only i know the truth
it’s time, it’s time to go

3rd Grade

pink, purple, and green
running outside during recess
the blacktop sits, waiting

let's play a game
the mushy-looking tar
is no longer tar, but
clouds to walk on
a tightrope to cross

I never stopped walking
the tightrope, carefully
walking the thin line
between purple and green

in the dark hallway
voices cloud my brain
trying not to fall off
of that imaginary tightrope

purple or green
which do I choose?
my mom said I should
"become Switzerland"
so I do

no longer pink, but iridescent
shifting colors like those
dolls I used to play with
color changing to appear
more light or dark
more purple or green
depending on the day

each day, spin the wheel!
which one will it land on?
Friend A or Friend B
then walk the tightrope
say the right thing
don't mention them
please them all
become personified Switzerland
be the perfect friend
be perfect

Imaginary Friends

rolling in the grass outside
close your eyes from the sun
breathe in the earthy smell
feel an imaginary presence
laying next to you

the lights off in the gym
the teacher's voice unusually soft
"imagine a place that is your own"

a solitary island in the ocean
one large, castle-like building
full of books and a snowy owl
just you and your comfort characters

you still remember that island
vividly, even though it was a daydream
places that you've never been
still feel like home

now, you lay in tangled sheets
transporting your tired mind
to places you've only imagined
in books, movies, shows
pretend as though it's all real
characters you cherish
ones you carry with you daily
on your backpack's key-chains
on plastic pins, in your heart

invisible friends you carry along
wishing on a falling star
appear and whisk you away
to those awfully familiar zones
old castles with witches and wizards
a magical, unusual summer camp
a league of misfits like yourself,
friends you've never met
invisible to others, but not you
you see them everywhere, in
cracks of forgotten light
dust on your closet's shelf

in each chemical bonfire
a scaly lizard grins
broken, compressed watches
metal that magnetizes
black and white masks
drops of red blood spilled
a decayed city remains
and standing, alone, a boy
with that soft blue hair
that you wish you could have seen
if he wasn't but a dream

A Rainbow of Flowers

criss-cross applesauce on the grass
surrounded by a rainbow of flowers
black eyelashes on amethyst eyes
fixed on a translucent figure

it shifts appearances monthly
when I was 10, a ray
of bright light, chestnut brown hair
the warm scent of honey and comfort

new flowers bloomed, colors replaced
magenta, plum, and deep red
leafy green ground coverings
a bubbling thrill of excitement
and, sitting in that meadow

a different figure
emerald green eyes
velvet green sweater
a ghost, one that
has never graced reality

Roslyn

Fairy lights adorn her mom’s old bed
passed down to her years ago
delicate flower detailing, swirls of metal
her pen swirling on the diary’s page
nothing important, not really
just documenting her teenage self
as you know, it’s not every day that

you get to be a teenage girl
freshly showered, hair wet
smelling like roses and
something vaguely witchy
wearing a shirt of a pop star
that she swears she’ll meet one day
listening to a movie soundtrack
as she dumps her thoughts on paper

this will all be nostalgic one day
she knows it will be, there’s a reason
many main characters are teenagers
so she fights against her own nature
of dissociation, to try to savor the
mundane moments she knows she
will wish to go back to in the future

Pushing Strollers

A vague memory from early childhood
Is it a dream, or reality?
A faded photograph, corners frayed
A glitching strip of film, faces blurred

A familiar face, edges sharper
More mature, less child-like
Words shrivel on my tongue
That used to speak to you
Questions swirl my mind
Do you remember me?


Vintage baby doll in my arms
Pushing Strollers that were us sized
Giggling echoing down the street
Playing in your big basement
Watching Dora on your TV
Parents gone, just us kids
Until we weren't anymore

You grew up to be, the type
Of girl my parents thought I'd be
Pin straight hair, white dresses
Pretty face, those hoodies you wear
Words of God and Heaven on them
Things that no longer belong to me

You're on the dance team now
I used to do dance too, until
I felt I didn't belong and quit
Seems like I still feel that way

You invited me to be in your group
In English, when I was alone
You and the other girls giggling
Like that day in my Grandma's neighborhood
But now, not with me, laughing
Anticipation for things I don't care for
Husbands, kids, the Celestial Kingdom
For me it's novels and poems, maybe
A boyfriend or girlfriend if I'm lucky
An apartment of my own
A life like Jane Eyre's
I want Mr. Rochester, and not
A man with a name tag and Bible

You're the teenager I envisioned
As a kid in my bedroom, the
Perfect teenage life I don't have
But I can't become like you
Even if you are my Lacy
Because I know my heart
Beats in pink, purple, and blue
Not red, white, and blue

8th Grade

Minuscule particles of dust cloud
The stale air of the room,
The glorified closet we reside
almost like Harry Potter,
The cupboard under the stairs

The dented silver door knob
And beige creaky door
Shield us from the other
Students with metal and brass
Muffled music plays there
But we don’t hear it
Not in our little world
We enter every 6th period

Two chairs and the speckled carpet
Rusty music stands from the ‘70s
Laughter sounds like bells
An odd sort of family you
Didn’t know you had
Until it turned to be
The dust on the filing cabinets
The glass on the room’s door
Fogged over, and you can’t
Look through it again

seems like old times

evening spring air washes over my fragile skin
laughter echoes through the restaurant’s outdoors
my dad, chatting merrily with the owner
an animated look on the face i’ve known since birth

that jazz singer from Iceland sings in my left ear
her soft voice provides a soundtrack to my life
the mundane moments that matter the most

being a kid and skipping from the parking lot
into the pizza restaurant with the lemon logo
smiles that look like lemon slices while
giggling with my siblings and parents

many springs later i still treasure it the most
the sun sets, and we’re still sitting at the table
the air starts to turn chilly, ice from a soda machine
i shut it out, the ice can’t withstand the heat
of the warm memories we’re making
and the future nostalgia i’ll feel, one day

i’ll be alone in a big lively city
skip my way down to a new pizza place
that same singer in my wired headphones
call my dad and tell him about it all
because they’ll always be in my heart
and i hope she’ll be there too, in my headphones
no matter how many pizza places i go