Fingernails

Fingernails like mine remind her to feel sorry for me. The jagged edges cut into my skin as she drags them slowly down my back. I hiss into her ear. She shushes me.

            “But Cassandra –“

            “Cassandra will take care of herself,” she whispers. Her lips are on mine again.

            I pull back. “Wait.” I could taste her lip balm – strawberries and vanilla.

            She sits back on the bed. Outside, the bass pulses through the living room, thudding up against the closed door.

            “She doesn’t know anybody Sasha. And with the Frisbee boys here-“

            Sasha sighs dramatically, pushing herself off the bed. She stands, arms crossed over her chest with her hip cocked. I can’t help but notice how her cleavage peaks out from under her forearms, pressing up against the tight v-neck she wears. Her nails dig into her arms this time. Does that mean I should feel sorry for her?

            “If Cassandra was in trouble, she’d come and find us.”

            “But what if –“

            Sasha glowers and I slide to the foot of the bed, across from her.

            “If you were so worried about her, why did you come in here in the first place?”

            I glance at the jagged crescents tipping my fingers. Even in the dark bedroom they glimmer; just a little bit. “Your fingers.”

            She frowns. “What?”

            “Your nails.”

            Glancing between her hands and mine, her face scrunches. The door closes quietly on her words as she walks out: “I feel sorry for you.”

Twinging

Something is twinging -
a muscle pulling against bone.
It's in my chest,
just to the left,
next to the beat of my heart.
I don't know what it is today.
It's an unfamiliar thing.
But it's only there when I see you -
your eyes,
your smile.
I do wish it would go away,
and let you stay.

Behind the Veil

A blue veil covers her face,
eyes dark behind the lace.
Lips red,
cheeks flushed;
her hair is tousled,
thick and dark.
She stands proud -
chin up and eyes ahead,
a sardonic grin twisting her lips.
Her back is straight in her black gown
and her lines are long and unbroken.
Inside though,
past the blank gaze and the twisted mouth,
past the flushed skin and the lines,
there's steel -
barricades so high that she can't see out:
no windows.
No doors.
No grates.
Here she sits -
knees to chest, head low, eyes ahead -
with broken lines.
She's pale, so pale,
and black smears her cheeks.
There is no dress to pool about her;
only nakedness,
barely hidden by her own limbs.
Bruises mar the flesh,
while cuts tear at her joints,
and mud crusts her limp, dark hair.
"Don't look at me,"
she whispers.
"Don't look.
Don't look.
Or you'll see..."

Fading

Happiness doesn't seem to like to stick around -
the smiles come and go as they please.
The fluttering of my heart,
the bubbly noise in my chest,
is fading as the days go by -
the bubbles are lessening
and the heart returns to a level throb.

I don't want to go back to the corner,
curled up under the sheets
and avoiding, avoiding.
I like being able to hold my head high,
to smile and mean it for once,
rather than just scraping by.

Is there a way to balance
the smiles with the hiding?
To share the bubbles,
the laughs,
the grins,
amidst the tears and stiffness?

I like smiling.
I like being me.
I found me again.
Don't let me lose her.

Here's to You and I

The biggest grin sits on your face
As a different one twists mine,
our guts' aching,
shuddering with laughter.
Seeing the smiles,
hearing your laugh,
shows me that all is as it should be.
The warmth that radiates from you
as you talk about her
brushes me and earns a giggle.

It's been a winding path we've walked,
you and I.
From never speaking,
to dancing,
to partners;
now friends.
Maybe we could have been
just that little bit more than you and I -
maybe,
once,
there could have been an 'us'.
But I like you and I now,
you and I as friends,
you and I on your couch,
sipping hot chocolate,
as you talk about the girl you met in LA
and I just smile;
the happiest I've been
in literal years.

It Hurts Me Too

It's the pounding ache
that rolls through your bones
like a semi
rolling to a halt.
It hurts as it makes your jaw clench,
your shoulders high around your ears
with tension that bleeds through your muscles.
It's knowing that the smile you wear -
all teeth today -
is fake,
and praying to God that they don't see it.
It's telling them you're happy
though something inside screeches
like a dying seal,
while the rest is genuinely light-feeling;
grinning with their accomplishments.
It's tearing you in two,
this unspoken connection
between them and you.

It Always Comes Back

It always comes back to the ache in your chest,
the tears in your eyes,
the way your throat constricts.

It always comes back to holding that bear
that was given to you by a friend;
curling up in the fetal position
on the carpet floor.

It always comes back to that hug -
the one you didn't expect
that brings you to tears and you can't explain why.

It always comes back to being lonely.
To missing human contact:
a hug,
a kiss,
a touch.

It's not that you don't like being alone;
being alone is ok,
and sometimes is exactly what you need.
But it doesn't mean you like being lonely,
because it always comes back to this.

Can I Not Stay?

I'm dreading the return
to that room
in the harshness
only cast by florescent bulbs.
I can hear the girls now,
a whole cluster of them,
giggling and swapping stories
in the open hallways,
or behind closed doors
leading to other rooms like mine.

Can I not stay,
cloistered away in this apartment -
the hardwood gleaming,
a warm bed shared,
a kitchen and fridge
all our own?
Can I not stay
in this sanctuary
where I am fed,
where I'm told, "Thank you for staying here"?
Can I not stay?

The sun is dawning and
the cold air is leaking
 through the cracked window.
The return has arrived
and I must pick up my bags:
carry on.

Another Year Over, A New One Just Begun

2012 was a hell of a year. It had its highs, it had its lows. It was a trying year, but a year of growth - in all aspects of life.

In dancing, I made it to BluesSHOUT! for the first time, found my love of dancing again, and was asked to be the dance partner of a man who has become the best friend I've had in years.

In school, I returned to writing as I enrolled in a Creative Writing minor and learned how to model the human figure in Maya.

In life though, I think I've learned the most. I've learned that it's ok to be broken. I've learned that it's ok to be selfish sometimes, in order to take care of yourself. I've learned that I'm a likable (even sometimes desirable) person. I've learned that I can't change the past, no matter how much I may want to, and that it's no good beating myself up over it. I've learned that I've been keeping people out, in an effort to protect myself. I've learned that it's ok to explore my sexuality. I'm learning love myself, because I can be a pretty cool person sometimes. Most of all, I've learned that I'm not alone. I'm not the only one who is suffering and fighting with emotions and crap beyond their control. I am one of many that are looking for healing, for answers.

At the end of the day, the best part of 2012 has been the friendships that have been born and/or grown: my dance partner and best friend, who I've known now for two years now; my MFA buddy, who I only met three months ago; my Detroit friend, who took me home for Thanksgiving. I've found friends who are ok to sit there while I'm having a flashback breakdown, hand on my knee, and telling me that it's alright to feel overwhelmed. To be hurt, or angry, or upset.  Who are ok to just listen to me rant about my day, or talk about recent discoveries I've made. Who are ok to make alcoholic pumpkin shakes and watch Supernatural while we plan our hermitage. Who are okay to dance until all hours of the night and fall asleep together, holding each other's hands. These are the people that I am proud, lucky, and blessed to call friends. They're the reason that I've been able to grow so much. They are what made 2012 truly wonderful, in spite of all the lows.

2012 has been an adventure in its own right, and one that I'm grateful to have been through. So here's a salute to the old year, and a cheers to the new. Let's see what 2013 holds, shall we?