Growing Forest

He was a forest

More than he was a man.

He had vines in his arms,

And roots in his hands.

I tore his wilderness

Tore it limb from limb

And I demolished the passion

That was housed in him.

I do not mean to cry,

For what I’ve done can’t be forgot.

I only wish to remember him,

For all that I am not.

He was the plant in the dirt

That I refused to see

But now I’ll plant another tree,

And hope he grows free.

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Hands

It’s hard as a young man to put myself in and write from a female perspective, so I don’t. Because I don’t want to pretend I know what it feels like to be a female living in a society where the rape culture is overlooked. But I do write from my own perspective, from my experiences. Almost a year ago, I noticed one of my female friends, who had been very close to me, was becoming a bit distant. We no longer had long walks and train rides alone. It felt like something was wrong, so I confronted her, not knowing that she had been sexually assaulted the week before. She broke down and I tried to comfort her as much as possible, but things never returned to how they were. These are my thoughts:

Do you feel my hand in yours?

Do you feel my heartbeat

When you lean your head on my chest?

Does it sound like every other chest?

Do my hands feel like the same ones

That came before?

When you think of me,

What do you see?

Do you see me,

Or every boy that has seen you;

That has looked at you?

I am not those boys

I am only me.

My hands are not the same ones

That told you everything was alright

And turned to lie all night.

My eyes are not the ones

You hid from when they told you,

“Look at me”


I am not the man you trusted

I am not the man that hurt you.

These hands are much smoother.

Can’t you feel that?

This heartbeat is much slower.

Don’t you know that?

I am still here,
I know you know that.

Summer

Isn’t it odd how we grow up; how my best friend from middle school and I will most likely never speak again? The thing to keep in mind is that we all grow up. We all choose different paths, and grow to become different people. But occasionally, we get that one friend. That one friend who may completely change, but when you guy get together, its just like when you were younger. To commemorate these long lasting friendships, here it is:

She wasn’t the brightest
But she her body was desired
By every man on the deck
It was summer. And I knew her best.

We hadn’t spoken since last summer
We always met in the summer
And we always tried to meet after
But then it was winter. And she didn’t know me.

Her voice carried with light assonance
And her hair flowed like long fingers that ran down her spine.
She should’ve had her hair in a bun.
But it was summer. And everybody knew her.

When we all ran together
She was never the fastest
But every boy stood behind her,
I stood next to her
This was common for us.

It was summer, and she knew me
Again.