there’s no virus here

quicker than lighting

a flag

of golden stars and crimson fabric

was brought down

upon the greeting

of this phage

we all pushed our fears away

sent them gliding back to the sea

laughed at the thought

that it could hurt us too

while some of us enjoyed parties

they locked themselves at home

their little island

floating father away from our minds

unexpected as a mighty drought

an atlas

clouded with black germs

upon the greeting

of this phage

we shouldn’t have pushed our fears away

we should’ve taken them in

and prepared for the thought

that it could hurt us too

and so our doors slammed shut

we locked ourselves at home

because that little island

became the whole world

there’s a virus here.

adj. (of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure

yes, i will be a pit stop for the lonely. yes i will become the train stop people don't want to miss. yes they will look at me like a prize to claim: my friendship, my companionship, my light in my eyes. i will watch them lose interest in me as a person, little by little.

at 13 i can confidently tell you that this world is not kind to the young (or anyone for that matter) in friendships, love, or simply not drowning in our epidemic-like wave of cowardice.

worse than the plague.

but i refuse to believe that i will become the type of person who will stand and sob. i refuse to believe i’ll be weak enough to allow someone to force me to love them when they had no intention of loving me back, and i refuse to let them say something along the lines of i just had to try. i had to give it a chance. it was you after all.

i won’t break over something that isn’t romantic, or sweet, over someone that was so engulfed by my existence they had to risk breaking it for the sake of knowing they weren’t the one missing out.

i’m just so sorry if i refuse to contribute to this cowardice and grow to be strong enough to pick my own pieces off the floor and put myself back together like a puzzle. im sorry for having enough strength to say “no”.

but i guess my voice doesn’t matter.

i guess it doesn’t matter that i refuse to be selfish and a coward.

but let me tell you:

if they tell me that they just had to try, that they had to give it a chance, because it was me after all, then let me tell them this.

here

is the door. im holding it open for you like a true lady. go ahead, i no longer need you here to step on me. i am not a carpet in the grand hotel you stopped by one lonely christmas break. i no longer need someone here that stays because of how bright i glow then leaves because i rendered them blind.

i am not a coward and this right here is proof of it.

I am a girl.

With slim fingers

that love to run through

silky long hair.

Flawless smooth skin

soft to the touch,

complemented by

striking red

of velvety lips.

Elegant,

a porcelain doll

in a glass display case.

But sometimes I think,

I was meant to have

roughened fingers

ruffling an unkempt sea

of messy locks.

Able to fit

a 13 cent more pay

in functional jean pockets.

Meant to meet

the eyes of parents

who saw me with a

successful stable future

instead of as a dress up doll

merely meant to please

the opinions of others.

Ok maybe it’s not so bad,

sitting in a glass display case.

But sometimes it's tiring,

and I try to shatter the glass,

thinking,

I am not a girl.

Jolene,

Please help my man,

Don’t ride off into the setting sun with him

Just because you can.

I’ve seen better faces than yours.

What seems to entrance?

With strands of translucent hair

With earthy skin and empty eyes.

Your smile stretches from ear to ear,

Your teeth are cobblestone walls

Your voice is sharp like jagged glass

still you turn heads when most do not.

Jolene, Jolene,

Why do you wear that black robe

Why the hood over your face?

I’ve seen your stare,

Your hollow cheeks,

The red irises of your eyes.

I’ve seen the way you take others,

Why are you taking my man?

Jolene,

He curses your name at the sky,

With fragile legs and shaky fists

I tried to stop him

Yet he screams out “Why?”

You just can’t seem to leave his mind.

Jolene

In a way I can’t explain

You’re taking away my man

Through parasites and plaguing thoughts

He knows less and less of me

And all I can think of is him.

Jolene, Jolene,

If you were to take my man,

Please let me know first

So it’s not that dreaded call at work

Please let him rest his eyes.

Please don’t take him just because you can

whatever’s left of gods above granted you your gift

You have your choice of any soul,

But I might never feel again-

Don’t take him because you can.

Jolene,

He lies in wait for you

For your skeletal hands

your sweeping scythe.

There’s nothing I can do.

Jolene, come sit at his side with me

and watch his chest rise and fall

Jolene’s taking his hand,

I pray that the blow comes fast and soft.

Tomorrow I’ll wake up alone

With only distant memories of

you taking away my man.

The town did not believe in ghosts.

And no one could say otherwise that

they did.

Because some chose to believe

but the town knew the opposite,

so they say at least.

Ghosts weren’t real,

they couldn’t be real.

Noises and things that go bump in the night were explainable

the creaking

steps and

Up the

wind would blow in unrealistic ways but

Paranormal activities weren’t uncommon,

the town would not acknowledge them.

The fear for change rose, but

for at night

lingered

ghosts

in the streets

In the thumping rain,

Did people hear their calls?

they didn’t.

And no one could say otherwise that

The town believed in ghosts.