the space station hums with the early morning traffic, the wafting of coffee and fresh croissants filling the air. for the first time, you are not behind your desk, hitting your shins on the weirdly placed piece of metal, but strapping yourself insi...
do not ask a girl "are you on your period?" if she's mad at you as if the only explaination for our anger spilling out are the hormones coursing through our weary veins
maybe she carries the anger of her mother like the way she carries herself, shoulders back chin straight, eyes forward, even stride perhaps today you unlocked that storage of anger
maybe the quick mindedness of her father has followed her now, and she doesn't think before spitting vile curses as a reprisal watching you burn down from the flames
perhaps her day is not okay like usual and the pent-up sadness radiates as anger or you've crossed a line and now she realized she had had enough of you and all your games
so i tell you, young lad do not ever ask a girl "are you on your period?" when she gets mad
because a hormonal cycle she goes through constantly shouldn't be the only reason she is "allowed" to express herself
without a filter
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hi! i'm back lol, i haven't been having any ideas for poems before i got to this. there will be another poem named period after this, except it will be dealing with a completely different topic than this chapter!
hope you all had a happy holiday season and near year!!
xoxo, sil
(debating on whether i would like to change this pen name, but i am in dire need of ideas)
