The Myths of Girlhood

Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

Brave and Reckless

we were spoiled

for reality

by milk chocolate-coated fairy tales

force fed us as girls

made to swallow

not spit

myths about beauty

love

sex

taught that only pretty, pretty princesses

would be awoken by

true love’s first kiss

impossible standards of beauty

femininity

made for

bitter cherry centers

that left us empty

starving

hollow

how old were we

when we learned

that mere mortal girls

like us

would never be beautiful enough

thin enough

kind enough

pure enough

to win Prince Charming’s gold enrobed heart?

we ate up the lessons that with the right make-up

the right clothes

shoes

if we took enough quizzes

in Seventeen magazine

about how to popular

how to catch his eye

contorted ourselves into pretzels

we might almost be enough

to be invited to dance at the ball

drink a brief taste of the pink champagne dream

before the clock struck midnight

and we…

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Little Girls

Karem Barratt/Singing Hearts

Singing Heart

@KaremIBarratt

Little girl car rebecca 

I once heard that little girls were made of sugar

and spice and everything nice.

And it’s true.

But they forgot about the butterflies,

And the adventures in golden meadows

To catch them.

They forgot about the trees and the rope to climb them.

They forgot about the stars and the telescope to see them.

They forgot about the skyscrapers and the bricks to build them.

They forgot about the pianos and the notes to play them.

They forgot about the jiggles and the breeze to carry them.

They forgot about the broken hearts and the audacity to heal them.

They forgot about the dreams and the courage to seek them.

They forgot about the monsters under the bed.

And the mettle to fight them, beat them

And make them your friends.

They forgot about unexpected thunders and warm parents’

Beds, where little girls run to protect them.

They forgot…

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Brave Enough

Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

Brave and Reckless

Are you brave enough

to love the suicide girl

pierced with silver

dressed in black ink

whose vanity

was shorn off with her hair?

Are you strong enough to drive away

the wolves who worry her door?

Can your words drown out

their mournful howls

calling out to her feral heart?

Are you ready for the demons

who come with black roses

during long dark nights of her soul

whispering their ugly lies

poking her deepest fears with their dirty nails

wooing her to the razor sharp edge?

Or are you just another would-be lover

who tasted death on her tongue

the blood in her tears

and ran?

Image courtesy of Pinterest

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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Stretch-marks-on-the-face-of-spring

Aakriti Kuntal/Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

‘ Time collects in the circle of this wound. Here you shall sprout:
full of color, full of vigor, complete as all light. ‘

Mother, I counted your skin
like the ceaseless motion
of tongue assessing the irregularity of jaw

You are a convex liquid armchair
rocking back and forth
time squeezing your lap
Your seeking hands are like lizards,
stagnant, then running
Cerulean eyes, cheeks of crepe
Palm trees circling
the diaphragm
to form
my pillow of orange lights

You said through feverishly gray lips
that spring is here
that a flower has birthed in your womb,
water, turquoise pools
Mediterranean swirls and violet streams
That you have solved
the anomaly of friction
And now you are afloat
in a vacuum
long, large
and quieter every second

I watched through umbilical
blinds and colloidal irises
Meteors in your baked body
I watched you detonate
You are a quark
Motionless

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One day-Christina Strigas/You Can’t Break Up with a Soulmate

Christina Strigas

One day I will wake up dead and the life you breathed

into me with thumbs pounding on keys

will have meant nothing. nothing at all.

One day I will meet you again

after months of wanting

kiss you on your  tender lips

and feel your arms squeeze me tightly.

One day we will not even remember

each other’s smell. All of our physical pain

will have taken over our desire.

One day I will walk on the beach alone

and crave your hand in mine.

It is not even real, this love.

Back doors are open

and front doors are locked.

I died once and came back with

a new identity

someone stole Chrissy

and brought back a new version.

You would think she would be smarter

but she keeps on fucking up

mixing up sins with duties.

I lifted my dress for you

but you moved on now.

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