Lost Art

When I look back on old poems and stories I used to write, I’m always amazed at how easily the words flowed out. No matter how clichéd or melodramatic my words were, it always felt like they came naturally. I was only 16. Today I am an adult who has experienced many of the things I wrote about as a teenager with a wild imagination and yet writing a poem, even on this insignificant blog, seems like a daunting task. I feel as though the years of AP english and college essays have made me cold to the idea of dreaming and creative writing.

I miss it so much.

I thought about starting another writing blog and making it more mature, more thoughtful this time around. But looking back all the journals I never finished, all the blogs I neglected, all I need to do is write, and write on. Old posts here serve as a reminder of how much I loved this art and how much I’ve grown since. New posts here will document my journey.

There’s no better place than here, no better time than now – here’s to new new beginnings.

boys

as young girls we are taught that we do not need sex or vodka to fill the void.

be confident
be happy
be you

but i’m feeling
especially lonely
tonight

if not boys
if not heavy liquor
then what?

blues

sometimes you are
my favourite reggae band blasting
top down
(so everyone can see us)
in dad’s old chevy in
californian air as you
kiss me
with rhythm and blues and irresistible calypso.

and sometimes you are
a breathy message
left on my answering machine at
four in the morning
‘come pick me up’ because
you made out with a foreign freshman
and the taste of his
gin never left your breath.

lily

she was a simple girl who
loved gardenias as much as
her own mother.

she picked him
forget-me-nots on their very first date
when he held her hand and said she was pretty

and when he was away she was
rootless
and empty

and he loved to make her cry but
she loved gardenias even more

and she would throw rose petals in his footprints where
his boots left muddy marks

and one afternoon
he destroyed the garden while
she was planting daisies.