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May 4th

Editor’s Letter: Ah, high school. A time of tears in bathroom stalls and skipping gym class in the library. I don’t know a single person who enjoyed, or is enjoying, the high school experience. It’s 4 years of utter bullshit masquerading as real life. Trust me though, it isn’t. There’s a whole world beyond 9 am classes and sports team. The rad as hell part is, you don’t have to feel like a complete freak in it either. Lunches aren’t always served in cafeteria lines and friendships are worth more than the cheerleading squad. 

Love Love Love,

Chey

 

You’re probably one of those guys who

avoids the rain because you’re protective 

of your hair. You probably know way 

too much about cars because it seems 

masculine and expected. You definitely read 

poetry when it’s dark, and when you feel 

the need to think. You were probably some sad 

prepubescent eleven year old who’d 

masturbate themselves to sleep every night 

with the lights dimmed, no less. I bet you

like fire.

 

You seem super raw and chill 

but that shit’s not genuine. You’re like a 

pomegranate. Incredibly thick and stiff 

on the outside, with millions of secrets buried 

inside that can only be scraped out. You bleed 

your life sparingly in the process, staining fingers 

and leaving a permanent residue of what you said.

 

I’d tell you now that I’m not 

attracted to you, but that’s a lie. You’re mysterious, 

but in a very obvious way. You seem to want 

to act caring and sincere, but you’re kind 

of full of shit. You seem to need someone 

to worry about you, regardless of 

your constant struggle for individuality.  

You’re kind of a dick. 

 

You probably only talk to girls with blond hair 

and an obvious 34C. You seem to subconsciously 

like mirrors because your shoulders look 

broad, and your cheekbones look 

prominent. You probably love sandwiches 

because you get to eat with your hands. You 

definitely own a nail file. 

I’m sure you bring up your sexual 

escapades to reassure yourself that they

actually happened. I bet you 

like fire. 

– Charlotte Rauner

 

i don’t know how to be better

but maybe i could learn like

maybe i could drink until

i couldn’t speak without

throwing flames or maybe

i could stay in the shower

for days until all the bad 

was washed out or maybe

 drive away the ones who

love this thing in me or i

could punch out every 

mirror i come across and 

maybe build a new body 

with all those shards so

maybe then i could feel

safe in  everyone

else’s skin. 

– Chey Addison

 

It’s not quite late enough to justify

the irrational anger that I feel

seeing you saying yes to her request

to go to fucking formal like we’re thirteen again

and I’m cutting class to pile on purple eyeshadow

and trying to pull up my skirt

in our old high school bathroom

pretending to not see the cross on the wall

cause my time with you always felt like a sin

they could lecture me about sacraments

but they never mentioned your skin

and your plaid shirt that felt so soft

when you held me at homecoming

and I thought that was what growing up was supposed to be like

late night calls and classes spent 

hoping our hands would brush

as you walked to your seat

but all the purple eyeshadow in the world 

wouldn’t change how it stung

when I asked and you hesitated

because that was enough

I was young but not stupid

and I knew what rejection was like

and it sure as hell wasn’t the way you looked when she asked

and I may still be young

and maybe I am a little bit stupid

but I can’t help but wonder

if I asked you now

without the crosses and sins

without the eyeshadow and skirts

would I be enough?

– Remy Anne

 

this building tried to

eat me alive

sucked my motivation

through the cracks 

in the walls

so i left

– Sarah Freemyer

 

I always knew I’d never see

The real you

The real us

At night I am haunted

By visions of what might have been

Visions of a face

I know I’ll never see

Yes

You stalk my dreams

You wonder through my thoughts

As I try to sleep.

In the middle of the night I awaken

With your name on my heart

In my lips

Pounding

Through, my, head.

Like a curious child

I touched the flame

Just to see if it would burn me

Or offer me warmth and comfort.

And yes

My love

It burned.

But in the way you haunt me

I have the afterglow to keep me warm.

I always knew you’d never let me see your face

And what lies

Behind the mask

I always knew you were nothing but a vision

I always knew

I’d never see the real you.

And still I am haunted 

By what we 

By who you

Might have been

If you had been real.

You said you knew

But never truly knew

The real us 

The real me.

I see visions of what could have been

But I know they’ll never be.

Your face

Which is forever in my heart

Burns me

Until the end of time.

I try to call your name out

But no sound comes from my lips. 

The flame in my heart 

Is dying 

And I’m not sure I can keep trying.

I’m running after you

But you’re too far away.

I wake up every night

Wondering 

If it was all a dream 

Why heart aches.

Maybe it was real

But I will never know.

Because what once was there 

Is gone 

Forever.

– Bridgette Annalyse

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May 4, 2013

Comments

Hey babes!
I didn’t know if you all do poetry/writing submissions, because I would really love to submit some things. If not, it’s all good. Thanks!
Xoxo Maddie

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