|katydid. but katherine didn't.|
The Only Poem I'll Ever Write About PeriodsWhat To Do When Your Boyfriend’s Asshole Best Friend Says, “Hey, Never Trust Anything That Bleeds For Seven Days And Doesn’t Die,The Only Poem I'll Ever Write About Periods by otherwiseunbroken
OR The Only Poem I’ll Ever Write About Periods.
Don’t excuse him because he’s had
at least three lite beers
and is sweating through his black button down
that his mom or exgirlfriend
probably bought him.
Don’t excuse him because he’s been turned down
by the last six girls he went on dates with
after meeting them on tinder
with a picture that’s seven years old
Don’t excuse him because
he’s usually such a nice guy
because you don’t want to be a bitch
because you don’t want to cause a scene
because when you were seventeen
your sister told you
no one likes an angry feminist
Let me explain something to you.
Every goddamn motherfucking month since I was eleven,
a part of me
tore itself to shreds
ripped itself apart inside me
and then remade itself.
To The Men Who Loved Smoking + Me SimultaneouslyOne.To The Men Who Loved Smoking + Me Simultaneously by otherwiseunbroken
You were the first one who said, Try it. Just see how it feels. And it felt like my insides were burning, like my heart was on fire, like I could feel myself rotting from my very core. And I liked it. I wanted for a long time to claim you broke my heart. Somewhere in a hot July, you’re still claiming I broke yours. Saying, Try it. Just see how it feels.
He and I on a mission: laughing, drunk, and fingers intertwined. It took an entire summer of midnight runs to the closest convince stores to make him fall for me. It lasted only one night before I left for blonde-haired black eyes and bruises. We stargazed alone, isolated by our twin obsessions: his for cigarettes and mine for him. I did not want for nicotine. I went only for the smell of smoke in my hair when I was trying to fall asleep.
You were always quitting everything. Of your two habits, I was the easier one to shake.
His professions of love on the phone at three a.m. were asthmatic and brief as he st
Left For TexasThe first one couldn’t be helped.Left For Texas by otherwiseunbroken
You were five years old and you’d been married a week before, over by the slide. He kissed your cheek and gave you the black crayon after snack because it was the best one.
His mom tells the class that they’ll be moving in two weeks and you suddenly understand why he crawled under the arts and crafts table yesterday and wouldn’t come out, even when Mrs. Rametta demanded it, even when you offered him the sharp black crayon.
He makes you swear you’ll still be his wife and, together, you find Texas on a map; it’s unfathomably huge, and three states away.
How am I going to still be your wife? you ask.
Simple, he says, come with me.
But he moves with his family and you never once see him again.
You knew the second he put his application in what the answer would be. He worried for weeks but you knew and it created a kind of calmness inside of you that he would later call stagnation. He would call it quicksand.
He tells you
Only On Days That End With YI love you most on Sunday afternoons, ten minutes after you leave, when I am still trying to carve every word you said into my ribcage, when I’m letting the way you whispered I will love you still run up and down my spine.Only On Days That End With Y by otherwiseunbroken
I love you most on Mondays around noon, when my coworker asks what I’m smiling about. You were always a secret I kept tucked behind my tongue. You were always a sharp light that shone through my very skin, making me dangerous.
I love you most on Tuesdays at any hour when you’re breaking promises, whether early in the day or two seconds too late. You can’t see me tonight, you will not kiss my collarbones, you will not touch the tiny scrapes on my fingertips and ask where I got them. You won’t, you won’t, and even when I think that maybe you never will again, I know what the ache between my unkissed bones means.
I love you most on Wednesdays when I first wake up, when everything still seems possible. When today could still be the day
not always miserablethe last time you kissed menot always miserable by ohsostarryeyed
was two augusts ago.
the boston harbour was bluer than
the eyes you so loved
looking back at yours when we said
i never meant goodbye.
take my lips
their feel, their taste
and press them to your own
i love you and will not
take you for granted.
i am so happy to be
in and on itself.
but time does not forget.
i remember the first time you kissed me
and how much i trembled,
my first kiss and you told me i could do better
so i melted
my face in your hand,
and let our skin stitch to the other
with the beads of excitement
that rolled down our fingers.
i know from the thick of my marrow
that the weight of your arm
(the first time)
was so immense, it should have taken
fifteen men to move it, tree-like,
to around my shoulder;
i remember the heat of your nerves
and the vibrations of mine,
getting to know one another.
(i think they fell in love, too.)
moments of being awakehearing from youmoments of being awake by ohsostarryeyed
gives me road rash
the kind the drunk man
who touched the shoulders of women
in long, lingering lashes
gets when he's thrown
from the bar
it slaps me in the face
harder than winter wind
after a night spent
alone in a bed
or not alone in a bed
i wonder if you wonder
if i'm sleeping with somebody
if i'm in love and happy
if i'm alone and miserable and
aching for someone like you
because i admit i do-
i spend some time
wondering about you.
Undiscovered Gems--Special FeatureYes, I've gone and done it again! As if I'm not busy enough with A Call to Conversation and dA Roadtrip articles, I'm bringing you ANOTHER one! With the launch of the "Undiscovered" browsing option, there are a TON of awesome artworks I've been finding and admiring, and I just have to share them with you guys.Undiscovered Gems--Special Feature by betwixtthepages
I WILL be taking suggestions for this series, as well, so if you discover something while browsing the bowels of dA that you think needs to be shared, please send me ( betwixtthepages ) a note titled Undiscovered Gems.
Undiscovered Gems--Special Feature
Gula by ENZZOK
suicide risk by camelopardalisinblue
My Tears Are Becoming a Sea by CAMartin
Reason for EarthquakesThe fear of him & his boisterous form has left us, her children unfeeling of her woes.
Can you hear that?
Can you see that? Feel that?
We, her clumsy fearful children, scamper to hide under table tops & sturdy study desks.
Her veins are popping;
It can clearly be seen on the outlines of her face
In her wrath, she engulfs the city in its entirety.
We, her children, plead with her for mercy but her anger has already taken her over the edge &
She only comes to after irreparable damage is done.
Only then will her anger be appeased & then
followed by absolute distress,
She wells up in tears & her children are drenched in her sorrow.
She is but a shell of the woman she used to be-
Her garden of roses & spirit of lilies
Have long been paved over by concrete men of steel minds.
She is a battered wife & an unappreciated mother.
She is our tend