By: Jordan Marcum

i accepted beauty as something meant not for me
to be found beautiful is fair, being seen is practice
taken to extremes in youth, a broken-toe infantry
marching to and fro in this desperate knowledge
seeking twilight’s prickly potency of past summer and the waking dreams that came and have
i’ve went down with the rabbits and felt skeletal
asking to learn and receiving and, later rejecting
what i know now is to be careful of who i’ve met
no more will a man know me in intimate images
and i will not see me in his eye, letting it be can’t
be enough. i need to erase my memory of touch
and the touch of a woman who cannot read lips
the violence of what some call love, denounce it
the transition undertaking immediate undeniable
burrowing bosom of nicetry, sex not me else more
you chide me, and frown and draw lines, no more
i, remaining a witch in need of ease, cast my spell only on myself and i fill my floors with
and i’ve learned well that love is a made up story
conceived in a dry cave to, make me feel uneasy
i have lived through thistles of belonging, despair
following through in its already lackluster promise
i bloom in my desire’s grave, grow from no man’s garden when, once it seemed to be
it is love that i dream not of, it is an innate rebirth.

Jordan Marcum (she/they) is an actor, writer, and artist based in New York. They’re twenty years old and believe in mindfulness, a place where all people can feel safe / find harmony. Despite the turbulence of life, they enjoy all parts of it.

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