Veritas

Julia^2

there’s a point where a friend is no longer.

what brings the change?

without you there’s an extinguished ember.

who changed?

and in what world are we no longer

maids of honor?

and he is now the only thing

that you are fond of?

goodbye bikes. goodbye Summit.

goodbye drives and mac miller.

there’s a point where a friend is no longer.

why did you change?

greek tragedy

and suddenly i’m listening to the same song i always did when i was 17

but i’m not 17 anymore

im not driving with sophia on a summer night

i have a job offer

i still am 17

abel

i promised to go back to lima to the spot by the view of the water where there is a statue of people in love. i think and there is big step benches things. i will sit at the top
god is peruvian and so is spider man

i know i will die young

and if i do not, what a pity.

for so much pain to continue to live.

death, be not proud.

for some have called thee

mighty and dreadful,

for thou art not so.

for those whomst thou thinks thou dost overthrow

die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

i live for poetry,

irony.

knowing that you cannot turn to your mother in a time of grief

is a difficult burden.

for lust, lies, gossip,

are but daily avails.

death, does though mean these crimes are my sins?

despite my blessings?

how dost thou win.

hope, beautiful hope,

does not prevail.

and death ends all.

yet death brings all.

compassion, rebirth

I used to play the violin,
Now it sits under my bed.
I promise I'll start again,
But I think it will be when I'm dead.

The only time it will be played is after the estate sale,
When the next little girl promises she will be a famous violinist,
If her parents would only buy her my violin.

I love that violin.

Is it still love when I can't bear to look at it anymore?

I got angry at my mom for no reason

the only side of me she sees is my anger
i don't have the fun loving, sit down, drink tea relationship
i am not my sister.

she doesn't see how highly of speak of her to my friends
i rarely tell her how much i admire her.
and love her.
how great a mom she has been.

she brings out a rage in me by asking me to do the simplest tasks.

i think i only get angry because i am not more like her.
i don't like myself.
i don't want to wash the dishes.
i've been sad for a week.
no one's noticed. probably because i'm always in my room.
i rarely see my family, so how could they?

i am a stranger in their house,
an extended family member they see on important holidays.
or when i'm angry.

asking me to clean a pot should not be this hard for her.
but it shouldn't be hard for me to clean a pot.
it's not laziness.
i don't know what it is.
i don't want to be angry at my mom anymore.

i didn't even feel angry.
i was just yelling.
i just didn't want to clean the pot.
anger.
i don't think thats the right word.
when i'm driving.
when i'm cleaning.
when i'm talking to my mom.
i can't be annoyed, just "angry"

i can't yell at my dad anymore.
he worked so hard to stop yelling at me.
but is it fair to yell at my mom instead?
she never yells back.
she's so tired.
so am i.
i don't want to be angry with my mom anymore.

HFD–> WAS

I always thought I could not be loved. Not the way other people were.

But it was a seven hour trip. Complete boredom. Chug.chug.chug.

And then he was here. It was my birthday. He said he loved me, but he was drunk.

Months later. Another seven hour train. Chug.chug.chug.

And then he was here again. “I love you”. sober.

And for a minute, I knew I had been wrong.

But then “It’s too far” and “This is too hard”

And “It kills me every time I have to leave”

And “I can’t come back again”

And then I thought I had been right all along.

It’s funny how you forget when you meet people. I don’t remember meeting my best friends. I don’t remember the first time I saw him. I don’t remember what I thought. On FaceTime. In person. None of it.

It’s funny how you remember the things people say. I remember “I am literally obsessed with you.” “Let’s have kids. A house in Virginia”. I remember “marry me”. In bed. Outside. Drunk. All of it.

It”s funny how you remember the way people make you feel. I remember sadness. I remember manic episodes, depression. “I would find you attractive, but I just can’t get passed some features”. I remember love. Inside. Outside. All of it.

It”s funny how it ends. Talking. Analyzing. “I am bad for your mental health”. “I love you. Always”. I don’t remember enough. But I remember all of it.

I wish we had more time to remember.

My Inferno

That I would hang myself in the sky outside your window

and slowly reach my hand out to the sun,

claiming its fire as my own.

One more bright star in your sky,

a bloody inferno.

So that when you look out,

there is one more small piece of joy.

I am all I have

to give.

s and j mems