The girl that walks through the city
Just to feel the bodies moving past her on the streets,
And she'll want to touch a woman like that.
So she takes the streets home and lets them into her bed
They would tell her that nothing is going to mend her broken heart.
She has to get the tape and the string
& stitch it back together herself
It's too bad, she never learned how to sew.
No amount of music in her headphones
will quiet the buzzing sounds in her head.
Everyone's got a hungry soul; the only difference is
That some are hungrier for a forbidden fruit.
She is the girl who's wandering eyes fall hard for the closeted ones.
They'll leave her tied to the bed, and in return
They'll give them a few hickeys and a lifetime of oppression
With the her live silenced and pushed into the shadows.
She's the one that always knows how to love,
but never figured out how grieve the loss of her freedom
YOU ARE READING
gas station flowers
Poetrycoming of age poetry by a queer young adult writer. navigating relationships and the coming out process. peak inside the mind of a young woman with a mental illness.
