i take one walk in a sundress and all of a sudden i feel like it’s time to write a book and ride whoever buys me a gin and tonic next. when the farmer’s market comes back i’m going to be even more insufferable (eat enough shortbread cookies to reignite a hormone imbalance). i also had three new lace skirts come in the mail this week, which was enough to distract from the fact that i have nowhere to wear them. i need to get laid soon so i stop online shopping so much. what is asos if not a cry for help anyway? it literally has “sos” in its name.
in other breaking news i’ve been eating a lot of pretzels and have a date coming up. we’ve been talking for two weeks which usually the kiss of death—but he’s hot (old) so i’ve been doing my best to keep the substance to a minimum in an effort to remain ethereal. he’ll ask me what sort of books i like to read, i’ll say “a bunch :)”, and then he’ll write a 5 paragraph essay about whiskey. it’s crazy how men can’t tell the difference between romantic interest and hearing themselves talk.
here are some poems i wrote in between cemetery walks and asking a very tired bartender if tequila is gluten free.
poem i wrote after talking too much in an uber
what i would give to call you
after three glasses of hard cider
ankles sore from ridiculous shoes
terminally overdressed as always
i haven’t been loved enough
to wear a sweatshirt in public
we don’t talk anymore
but i hear your voice in crowded bars
echoing in arguments and old fashioned orders
i’m a stranger among my oldest friends
but we laughed like i’d known you a lifetime
these days i hold on to every man
who picks up when i call them past midnight
talking about new york like i’m still 25
i wish wearing a nightgown didn’t make me want a cigarette
i wish i could stop pretending to be a girl in a painting
you told me i was beautiful
in a banana republic wrap dress
so i had no choice but to believe you
stupid drunk on brand new words
look at the beast you turned me into
a girl who feels hot in nautical print.
poem i wrote after screaming a stranger’s name
when i tell a man not to let me cum
i feel the most in touch with myself
lately i’ve been reading books
instead of online shopping
eating raisin bran from a mason jar
tits out in the kitchen
daylight kisses my milk fed skin
but i do not rush to close the curtains
maybe therapy would work for once
if my shrink stuck her fingers in my mouth.
poem i wrote after it stopped raining
there are half a million movies made
and i’m afraid i will die
before i find someone to watch them with
to fall in love is to listen
even when you’d rather just fuck
if you let me talk about batman uninterrupted
i’ll let you own my body like you got on it on ebay
tomorrow i’m getting a cat scan
then going on a first date
at least one lets me lie
about what’s on the inside
i wish i was worse at being someone else
but it’s fun to pretend holidays were normal
men never doubt a woman’s simplicity
remember when i wanted to be a teacher
and now i just want to have two drinks
without texting bad people
i wonder if i’ll ever be able to love someone
who’s not forty two years old
sex with guys my own age
makes me think about linkedin.
thanks for reading <3
-rachel elizabeth
The level of struggle that I arrive at when I try to leave a review comment on your work is unreal. All of the good words that I think to use sound cliche and don’t do justice to what I experience when I read you. It’s taking me some time but eventually I’ll formulate it.
The gin and tonic line was so specific i had to subscribe!!