i used to hate flowers
and dirt under my nails
wet hair
and bruises on my knees
i used to loathe nonfiction books
warm showers, mint toothpaste
and poetry like this
too many knots and hoops and black holes
the words like an abyss
i used to grab my sword and charge
at the slightest inclination
used to cut myself to pieces
and build myself a new kind of damnation
i used to write short stories
never to be finished; about mountains
and death, and endings with a bow
and i don’t regret a second
every fumbling mistake
and rambling intro
i used to want to grow my hair out
all the way down to my back
put it in braids and tie it up
so shitty boys would like me
and i would never have to like them back
i used to want to die my hair blonde
and buy expensive things
like the girls in the movies
i used to daydream about it
used to climb up on the roof with a ladder
as high as i could go
used to run down the street barefoot
until my low-rise jeans were soaked
I just turned sixteen and have been feeling just a little bit sentimental, in between having an absolute life crisis. I really like this poem and I hope you like it too.