someone else

The windows were down
and I laughed with my hair in my mouth,
my hand spread out into the night.
And the beach was so cold
with cigarette smoke in my face
and the smell on my fingers,
my feet spinning around on the sand.
I closed my eyes into the dark,
your voices drifting through me
and I’ve never been so happy,
never felt so beautiful.
How did I ever hate this life?
How, when we were on the beach
in the dead of night,
our footprints waiting for the tide?
How, when I can put my arm out the window,
becoming someone else?


I used to want to wear short sleeves in the summer
and I wanted to be someone important
but now I crave sitting in the park at night,
made safe only by the moon
and the dim lights spotlighting the oval
with one intention and a bottle of wine:
please let me forget that
I ended up being
no one.


I’ve been holding back my doubts,
saying, “No, I’m just a late bloomer,
things will start happening soon.”
And I wait for a call,
——and an email,
——–a text
but nothing ever comes.
And I think that it’s time
to push my doubts forward –
accept that it’s not happening.
Good things just aren’t happening,
not for me.


I can’t hear a pin drop
or rain hitting the ground in the night,
but I heard your screams.
And I woke up to your cries
at one o’clock.
It’ll be okay, I promise –
we’ll look after each other.
——We won’t be alone.
But you looked me in the face,
my cheeks stained with tears
and you didn’t hear a thing.
You turned your back on me,
but I’m still listening in the dark.

my fault.

You took the words out of me.
Made me numb.
And, did you know,
I can’t listen to what made me happy
I’ve been listening to everything
that makes me sad.
But it’s my fault.
My fault that I’m disappointed,
that I’m angry,
that you used me.
That I mean nothing to you.