For the second instalment of Late Night Poetry Club, a light will shine on things we’ve all tried to bury away. These little sores hide in our minds, our hearts, under our beds, and sometimes on our skin. The trick is, to not be afraid or ashamed of these hidden parts. No one knows your reasoning for making the decision to lock things up, but that’s what it is ultimately: your decision. Never be afraid to let your freak flag fly, but also don’t feel bad for rolling it up and packing it in a box that sits in your attic for years. You’re you; cobwebs, scars, and all. You don’t throw something away because it’s dusty. Don’t throw yourself away either, dolls. Your hearts are honeycomb and you are the honey. And remember, honey lasts forever.
Love, Love, Love,
I tried keeping diaries when I was thirteen
But the pens never worked
When I put them to the mass produced paper
There weren’t any good hiding places in my room anyways.
I tried telling secrets to friends late at night
But they favored films about rock stars
Who overdosed on their own egos
And you can’t hide a person away either.
I tried hiding meaning in the words
That I spoke everyday
But subtleties are hard to grasp
Especially when you’re busy trying to survive adolescence
I tried to mold poems into my secrets
And put my heart into words
But I still selfishly wanted people to see them
And promise me that they had secrets too
Anyway maybe it’s better to fail
At keeping things hidden away.
– Remy Anne
they look at me like I’m a
big strong lady who can
stand her ground and
hold her own and her
knees don’t buckle and her
fists stay risen but I feel like a
tiny wilting flower in a
cracked pot at an empty
house that someone forgot
to take when they moved
far, far away
– Luna Slater
She spits on the people she loves and she bleeds
in bathtubs and rose gardens.
She curses at the wind and only cries
in the dark and I’m afraid that she’s
going to kill me.
I’m afraid that I won’t stop her.
I’m afraid she already has.
– Chey Addison
i could build a building
with all of my regrets,
if they were toothpicks.
i could braid the hair of
every last, lost opportunity
and let it down the castle wall,
but nothing would climb up.
– Sharon B.
O’Keefe between my legs was a tulip-shaped flesh petal and I mean it was nice when things
weren’t so wilted but I guess I’m a woman then I don’t know?
Catch them with your tongue
Mold them back in place with the tips of blue shaking fingers
Its cold in the winter
Its cold steel on my back
I think those are garden clippers or maybe our old pair of nail scissors?
I like to bleed like the tree likes to leak sap
But in one case it hurts and in one case it’s sweet not salty
Forget-me-not pupils and
There are roses blooming in my palms but it’s the blood welling from under the skin
Kiss it away
Keep these flowery nightmares at bay
– Tara Abrahams
the black leather cuff
studded with plastic disguised as
hangs around my stony wrist
like a hospital bracelet i designed myself
i snap it as tight as it can go
chocking my arm
because if it is not tight
my secret message will be exposed
and that message is for me, only
for only i can understand the red ink
which spills out words
that i no longer feel
– Becky Dayan