Repeat

Ask me what I’m afraid of, and I probably couldn’t answer that

Two months ago, I said that I was afraid of falling out of love

And two years ago I would’ve said that I’m afraid to fall in love

And I never said it, but I felt it, that I was afraid of not being wanted

And I was afraid of being wanted too much

But I’m not afraid of these things because they’ve already happened to me

I didn’t consider even being afraid of these things until they were already happening without me even noticing

So, if you were to ask me what I’m afraid of, I probably couldn’t answer that

But I guess you could say that I’m afraid of things happening again

 

~Megan

Not All Roses Are Red

Not all roses are red

And not every rose has its thorns

But I’ll prick my fingers on every one of yours if you promise to be there to kiss my hands

You see, I’m not a romantic

And I can’t remember the last time that I picked a flower, because I can’t kill something so beautiful

But oh, I could not help myself from trying to uproot you

And you couldn’t help yourself from tugging on me

But you forgot that prying too deeply will end up giving you more than you were pulling for

And there isn’t much satisfaction in picking up something already uprooted, but there is more in being the one who takes care of it and admires it

So I guess that is what you wanted with me

You just forgot that I’ll wilt

And I forgot what it’s like to wake up and smell the roses

So the unfamiliarity got the best of me

I hope that instead of being thrown out, I’ll be pressed into a page that you leave open

 

Not all roses are red and not every rose has its thorns, but goddamn does the beauty hurt

 

~Megan

 

Love Love Love

I sometimes get exhausted by the amount of negativity spoken about love

Why must we magnify how destructive love can be and ignore the potential it has to rebuild?

Why let love be the death of you instead of bring you to life?

If it is love that’s making you ill, then I suggest that you reconsider the poison that you pick

And having doubt for something doesn’t always answer your questions about it, things wouldn’t be as interesting if we weren’t curious

Silence isn’t always the answer you’d been looking for, limitless thoughts are created within seconds

How could you possibly find a guaranteed answer in infinity?

 

 

 

~ Megan

Shameless

The people who smoke cigarettes for breakfast

Do you know what it’s like to smell like you wash your hands in tobacco?

Who chase tequila shots with a drag

Then throw  everything up just to fill up with more toxicities

And walk out like hovering their heads over a toilet bowl is a hobby

I hope you can’t taste the numbness on vodka stained lips

And sitting dazed in a shower of burning hot water feels like a paradise

Like everything outside is irrelevant

We don’t know why we do the things that we do

Playing with hearts is a control issue

I can go over all of my decisions but I couldn’t answer a damn question concerning my reasoning behind them

Using sedatives just to slow down our own overactive minds but still never understanding them

The gypsy inspired souls

You see, it’s hard, not wanting to be in one place for too long

So we settle for a little while, get bored, then push ourselves into somewhere temporary only to go back to where we came from, in the end, because we realize its unstable stability

Guess you could say that it’s exactly the same way that we treat people

The people who strive to impress, to shock, to have people question them, wonder about them

The ones with no comfort zone, and seek no understanding of “it’s gonna be alright”

What the fuck is “alright” to someone whose life led them to feel like these things are acceptable?

We’re not done being shameless.

 

~Megan

Like Rain

I remember the way that you put your chin on my shoulder and looked at me when our friend got to the part of a quote  that read “…and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating…thinking that if people were rain, I was a drizzle and she was a hurricane.”

I couldn’t even turn my head to you because I knew the light that’d be in your eyes and I didn’t want you to feel that way for someone who had already and would proceed to wreck you in some way

You see, people enjoy a drizzle, especially on certain occasions

Like when it’s hot or when they want to walk a little in the rain

But have you ever heard a person ask for a hurricane?

And I sure lived up to that title because I drowned anything good in my own uncertainty and destroyed what was left with my own fear

Whether you are a drizzle or a thunderstorm, you still fascinate me

Even if people aren’t rain, I’m still destructive and you’re still comforting

~Megan

The Summer That I Turned 18

The summer that I turned 16

I’d had a sip of my first drink and “I would never smoke a cigarette”

I was only concerned with the older boy who gave me butterflies

I felt like such the little bad ass when I clumsily snuck out the window to go to a small bonfire across the train tracks to drink slurpees and yell at people for lighting basketballs on fire

Boys set off little water bottle bombs and I thought it’d be cool if someone could be there to put their arms around me because it was chilly

I didn’t have any concept of time and days were spent in the hot sun and nights were spent sneaking out to the park or someone’s house where all we did was talk

The summer that I turned 17

Was the first time I got drunk

I spent most of it alone, stealing all of my father’s alcohol so I could sleep

Some days I didn’t even sleep until 8a.m. because night time scared me because I was alone in my mind and distant from everyone and longed for arms around me this time

The older boy was away and I’d spend a few nights on the phone with a boy I hardly knew as we drunkenly spoke about our worries and our loneliness and sensitive subjects that we acted strong about to each other

I believed the neighbor boys offers were innocent and I painted smiles on my face before I stepped out of the bathroom after I’d just been looking myself in the eyes wondering if I’d be alright for the day

The summer that I turned 18

I smoked a cigarette and haven’t stopped since

I hardly spoke to the older boy unless I was drunk calling him, and in that case, he’d hang up on me or I’d only get a response from the voicemailbox

I don’t speak to him often, let alone think of him much

A year ago, you would never have gotten me to believe it’d be like this

Early in the summer, I fell for someone who couldn’t help but want to keep his arms around me but I always made sure that he’d been kept at an emotional distance

Safe to say that that didn’t go over well and I made an ugly little mess of things

It’s possible to want someone while thinking you’re in love with someone else

But I hope to eventually clean up and continue on in that; it’s just not a good time at the moment

I spent my birthday heavily intoxicated, looking back at what I’ve done and what the hell I was doing

Seeing a friend naked and throwing up in a bowl while I stumbled to the bathroom to hover my head over the toilet bowl so I could get back out there and celebrate the fact that I’d made it another year

Even though that’s not really why I wanted to make a big deal over it, I just wanted to forget everything that’d happened and was happening

I kept my habit of looking in the mirror and questioning myself before I wiped a smile onto my mouth to step out again

My life is lived with a constant poker face

This all made me realize that we’re no longer the troublemakers but the heaps of disaster left over from our recklessness

The days that I’d spent at home I’d get high off of whatever the medicine cabinet presented me, for many days in a row

Every so often I’d add another pill to the count to test how many “one more”s my body could handle to the point of me creating a few “too far”s

I expected that “he” would always be there to catch my pieces and stick them back on me even if I hesitantly picked up and handed him his

You get what  you give eventually, I suppose, because I’m sitting here next to my pieces giving them a half smile and a shrug that says “I’m sorry, I don’t know, this one is on me”

The older boy isn’t the “you” in my writings anymore

And poetry doesn’t seem to dance around my sentences

And I’m truly unsure of what will be picked up and what is permanently left off

But I guess that I’ll pick that back up after the summer that I turn 19

~Megan

Kids These Days

Do kids these days even have a childhood?

When we were young, we couldn’t wait to grow up, and now, we don’t know what the hell we were thinking

But we still let the street lights tell us when it was time to go home

And pretend that jungle gyms were castles

We kicked around in the mud and splashed around in puddles

We woke up early for morning cartoons and played on Paint on the computer

We called each other or showed up at someone’s house to ask if they would come outside to play

Our parents had to practically force us inside

But now, you can drive along the street and rarely see a child on the sidewalks unless their in a group full of kids in crop tops and high-waisted shorts or sagging pants with their phones fused to their hands

They don’t call teenagers “the big kids” because as far as they’re concerned, they’re on the same level

When I rode the bus once in my senior year of high school, if the kids actions weren’t enough, their words were nauseating, vulgar, they had no boundaries and I just sat in awe

I see them flipping cameras off and sneaking out windows

And I don’t recall even attempting that until the summer that I turned 16

And I just can’t help to be terrified at even entertaining the idea of having a child in this shit rid society

 

~Megan