Featured Poet of August
decorator, actress, writer, and a tour guide. She studied Theatre Performance at Marshall University; during that
assist in all technical and production aspects including
(but not limited to) props, scenic painting, construction,
stage makeup, lighting, sound, and costuming. While
attending college she worked on two short films: Whacked as a Director of Photography, and Vador as a writer/producer.
Remember
I remember the bottle after bottle stacking up in an empty trash can
Music drips through my veins
Blurred faces surrounding me
I drown myself in memories of you.
Earning the names that women now scream at me
Through car windows as I walk by.
As I creep into another bed with visions of you
giving them a piece of me that I gave to you.
Just waiting for one of them to catch on to my charade.
I remember months later not being able to remember anything
Being with not one, two, or three guys who are nameless
and a guy who called himself pudding pie.
But there were just strangers wearing a painted face of you.
My red lipstick smeared of my face, eyeliner sunken in,
and clothes that hug my body too tight for comfort.
Whore, Slut, Shank, Easy are these now that words that define me,
and is that better than being called
an ice queen, gay, or a tease.
I’m just a girl trying to get over a guy
but every action I do backfire in my face.
Haunted by the fact that you still answer when I call
no matter drunk or sober, day or night
that you text me good morning,
and snap chat me selfies.
Telling me you care and that we are friends.
Whispering 'I love you's' which I can never say back
the ring must be heavy on your finger as you lay next to her.
I remember the day that I deleted your number
That I realized I was 'that girl'
The girl who was respected by no one,
who was a 'home wrecker'
who hated herself because of you.
I remember the day that you became the worst thing for me
A poison eating at me daily, tearing me apart,
leaving me feeling numb.
Not wanting to be 'this girl' anymore.
I remember packing my bags and moving to a different state.
Changing my number, my hair, and my attitude,
Finally becoming someone that I can be proud of and meeting people I can be myself with.
Finally discovering my love for painting.
Finally laughing until my sides hurt.
Finally being happy.
Finally forgetting all about you.
Finally moving on.
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I hope you enjoyed this month’s Featured Poet! Come back next issue for more riveting poetry!
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