“1996” – Poetry Revisited

File this one under the category of blog posts that my mom may not want to read.

Once upon a time, I wrote poetry. While some of it was, admittedly, the insipid crap that all high school girls write, a fair bit of it was actually pretty good. Sadly, through the years, I’ve lost most all of it. Yes, I have lost most of the pieces that I once wrote, but I also lost the gift of poetry. My newfound freedom, my introspective writing, my lack of sleep, my gender studies… many things have conspired to put me in an old, familiar mindset. And I do believe I have finally written enough by now to avoid the piece popping up in the preview.

So, without further ado, a new, original piece:


1996

A lifetime of pain
Crowding my mind,
Interfering,
Making me emotional
When I need to be practical,
Begging to be sorted out
While I need to study.
I just need silence,
A moment’s peace
To forget it all;
To dance
And drink
And pretend.

I don’t want to be fragile.
I don’t want to be a girl.
I don’t want to need.
I just want to drink
And fuck
And forget.
So, I do.
And you roll over and say,
“You know this doesn’t mean
That you’re my girlfriend.”

Bitch!
Did I SAY
That I wanted to be your girlfriend?
You’re just a tool.
You’re a means to forget;
To fuck it all off,
And prove
That I am unworthy;
To release me of the
Responsibility
Of loving a dead man.

Bitch!
I used you
Like I used this Everclear.
You mean as much to me
As this liquid fire.
You’re a burning at the back of the throat
And a sweet, sickening
Oblivion.
In the morning I’ll regret,
Act like nothing happened
And silently stuff my shame
With another distraction.

But I am too drunk,
And too polite, beside.
So, I gather my things,
Mumble some words
That you,
In your entitled, frat boy egoism,
Won’t believe anyway.
Angry tears betray me.
And I want
To destroy your smug, little face.

Twenty-one years since,
And I still feel the shame,
The betrayal of my sex.
Men have hurt me
In every which way imaginable.
I have been rebuilt
And destroyed
More times
Than any Jewish Temple.

But never have I felt
More powerless
As when those words hung in the air,
With all their
Gendered implications:
“You know this doesn’t mean
That you’re my girlfriend.”
Fuck you!
I don’t want your
Patriarchal bullshit.
Tonight I want to
Be the man.
But as I lie here,
Naked and sweaty
You show me
That my pussy does not, in fact,
Have teeth.

Pig-tailed ringlets
Tied up in pink ribbons,
Doe eyes welling up
Over you,
Heart-broken,
I’ll forever be
In your memory…
While I barely remember your name.

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