August 2022

Warning: Some content published on this website contains potentially offensive language.

they’re not all about you

By Shanna Williams

self-destructing

like i’m 20 years old again
drinking wine till my teeth are spattered red
my spit in the porcelain sink
colored like venom
cross-eyed in the mirror
before sinking back to your bed
your body felt like
sandpaper on my skin

starting the new year
on the right
side of the bed
hands outstretched
waiting for the vacancy sign
to stop flashing
i think of every motel i’ve slept in
the fine-thread sheets
the thin pillows
i think of you
smoking out the window in the no smoking room
i should have kicked you down
all 8 floors

and the uber ride back home at 4:30 in the morning
the driver said,
good morning
and i melted into the backseat
not ashamed, or remorseful
but so angry
at me
and so much more angry
at you

i hope your sisters know you’re sleazy and i hope your mom thinks you’re a fake
i hope the restaurant you work at burns down and i hope in your nightmares
you see my fucking face

and i don’t wish death on anyone
but i wish it on you
quietly, whispering it
from the back row of my brain

you (again)*

it takes 43 minutes to walk from my house to the bottom of your steps
a little sweaty
my forehead shiny like a lightbulb too hot to touch

my therapist says i’m hopeful
frankly, an understatement
i think i’m pining for you
yearning in a way that makes us both
uncomfortable
but it’s effortless to be in pain
i want the hurt and the tears that drip down, my pillow wet
salty
i don’t want to be in the bubble of reciprocal love
floating in the air like the wind couldn’t pop me
i like it when
it’s hard

it takes 57 minutes to walk to you
if i want to go slow, take my time, keep my pace
(not get sweaty)
i won’t glisten in the sun
the back of my neck won’t be damp and cold
when you touch me
i will be dry and i will be good
for you*Originally published in Vagabonds: Anthology of the Mad Ones Vol. 10, March 2022.

they’re getting married

have you ever bit your lip so hard you bled
sucked it out till you tasted metallic flavored ex-lovers
played it off like
you weren’t bleeding out at an
engagement party?

and have you ever
sliced your hand with the cake cutter
i am smiling so hard for these people
i am so happy
for their happiness
i do not believe in a marriage forever
but we are all wearing nice dresses
and suits
and shoes that poke the floors like
the hardwood is softening for us
so we are pretending
forever is a possible journey
and love is a thing that doesn’t fade
like a water mark on the coffee table

i want a ring so big
little girls at the grocery store
tell me i look like a princess
i want to wear a dress
that makes men cry
i want to invite everyone i hate
to a party for me
and make them say
“we are so damn happy for you”
and drink fancy merlots
and eat hot dogs wrapped in puff pastry
and call them something ridiculous
like, charcuterie reimagined

have you ever been standing in a room of people clapping
hearing the sounds of flesh hitting flesh
over and over and over and over like
you were getting hit again
have you ever looked up at 2 people kissing
you see tongue slide into tongue
teeth clashing, a smile pushing gums back into another smile
have you ever
wanted to ruin it?