Hannaleh The Poet

You're an artist, babe. Your words a rippling stream, My body, Babbling, bubbling, A character in this glorious fantasy. You're a salesman, babe, Like Harold Hill; I want to buy your outfit And march in your band, Like a boy who's been told for the first time ever that he can sing. And I can  sing. You're a wizard, babe, Because for the first time ever The girl who has absolutely no idea Realizes she has something to offer, And it's so fucking hot . But spells wear off too, babe, And we can't. No, we shouldn't, Because I wasn't shopping for an outfit, And singing's overrated when you're out of tune. But you're still an artist, babe, And I hope you find your muse, And I hope she gives you Everything you're looking for.

Let's get out of my head, and play a song, I said. And then I stood, And my fingers hovered over the keys, And I chose a piece that I knew quite well; Because it had a gentle, rocking, lullaby-like rhythm, And a moaning, bitter-sweet tone, And I knew that it would take me, like the rapture, To another place. I played it once, and felt the melancholy voice inside my chest Singing along. But I was still there, And the metaphors carried by the high notes, and the minor notes, and the quick little skipping notes in the middle, Played right into my thoughts, and my dreams, and my day - So I played it again. And my heart sang along with the happy middle, And cried with the sorrowful end, But I was still there. And my thoughts were clearer and louder, And the day ahead looked shorter, and closer, So I played it again, And I played it again, And I played it again.

Mother, How long has it been Since the chord between us became a phantom, Invisible to your eyes, intangible to my hands? Was it after the placenta, Biology’s metaphor for me existing solely within you, Was it right after my flesh was tied off from yours That you lost your way back to me? If I could, I would reach for it with my hands, Hold it up to your face until you can’t refuse to see it. What is this weight of loss that you feel, That when I leave the room, Like an infant playing peek-a-boo, You scream and cry as though I were gone forever? As though I had died without saying goodbye. And what is this empty space that you hold When an intimate thought of mine refuses to be expressed in words, As though you don’t have the direct path to it, an intuition? You claw and scrapple at the door to my heart, You try to beat it down, Use the full force of your words to shove me back in the womb, When we both know that I belong here, And my e...

I.                        Run away, run 2000 miles away, To a place this part of you has never seen before. Convince yourself that you’re free While the bully is latched to your back like a shadow, Awaiting the right moment To dig under your skin again. Just when you think that your new life is awesome - You survived Without the eternal judge deciding how you live, You write your first college essay, And the bully leaps, Pressing your face into the carpet Until you can’t see through the tears Telling you that it will never be good enough That you should’ve started sooner, worked harder, Worked your entire life learning how to write the perfect paper And now you can never get the time back. II.                      You realize That your body is...