callistory

sometimes lonely winter nights like these are too quiet and my mind wanders and instead of thinking about her i decide that i'd rather think about the statues in the Louvre. i think about a Parisian palace of gold and shining pyramids beneath starry skies. i think of ancient halls filled with the armless, headless fragments of bygone glory. divine creator, make me beautiful. wing me of marble, shape me of stone. give me hard eyes unseeing, white fingers unfeeling. carve this sorrow from my breast and turn me cold. make me perfect. make me priceless. make me forget that, in another life, i was loved.

never did go to church, never read the bible, never prayed except when i was on my knees in love with a girl but i know about god. god is:    running across the sand on an east coast summer night    filled with cicada song and cypress dripping white with    spanish moss and the deep hot stillness of the woods    behind the empty school playground near the old creek    where i pulled snails and snapping turtles from the    thick black mud of the salt marsh. god is:    the winter woods of minnesota where    we were children digging down and down    for arrowheads and teeth and deer bones    and old fossilized things that sl

queer girl coming of age in northern California feels like heaven, like reckless 21, like speeding down the San Mateo-Hayward bridge going straight as an arrow on the glassy ocean water for miles and miles, like a reggaeton heartbeat on the radio as the sunset puts everything in soft filter and the hills go all soft and blue to the horizon and i glimpse myself in the rearview and goddamnit i'm stunning! i'm stunning! i'm glorious even with my eyeliner crooked and my choppy hair coming undone but that doesn't matter at all because i'm finally happy, so fucking happy that it feels like my soul is breaking open and spilling all the pi

i. aries the stars say they are refunding your wishes in full because they are stars, they were only ever stars and nothing is real - not you, not them, not anything. ii. taurus the stars say that you should take better care of your immortal soul. drink water, get some sleep, go outside for a bit of fresh air. keep doing your best. they're here for you if you need to talk. iii. gemini the stars say that you should have died last week. you were supposed to be killed in a terrible car accident, but you escaped through some unforeseen twist of fate. there is an imbalance in the world. the stars want you dead. you are not safe here. iv. c

06/29/19 today at pride i saw a girl who looked just like you.    (honestly, you'd think i'd be used to it by now.    there are a lot of gays out there who look like you.    all you butches kind of look the same, with your    button downs and backpack pins and dirty shoes.) but this girl, she had short hair and yellow pants and she was holding hands with her girlfriend and they were so sweet and lovely and goddamn perfect    (and all around us people were dancing in the streets    and distorted beyonce filled the blue summer air    and the dykes on bikes were revving their engines    and san francisco was loud with rainbows.

i. today of all days, i finally saw you again. it was at the cafe a block from my place. i was at lunch with friends when you came. i think i had cream cheese on my face. you said hi, i said hi. you walked away.    (your hair is    different now.    you look good.) ii. when i got home, i suddenly remembered that i am 21. i walked to the store and bought cheap citrus vodka and a six pack of lemonade beer. iii. tonight i want to throw up until my heart comes out my mouth -    (a spill of    crimson in    my hands.)

it's the blank static hum of a city that's trying too hard. it's sleeping less and studying more. it's getting As and still not feeling good enough. it's getting a C and feeling worthless. it's reading Faulkner and Morrison and all the great American novels not because you want to but because it's required for class. it’s volunteering at the shelter because it’ll look good on your resume. it's working weekends because you need the money. it's staying after school because you need the recommendation letter. it's debating intersectional feminism and global warming with your Tinder date. it's doing it for the Instagram. it's pictures

/kəmˈpɝʒən/ noun. i.    these are the faithless nights i've learned to fear,    when the California sun goes down in a pink polluted    blaze and everything gets so quiet and still except    for sirens in the distance and the full yellow moon    and the flickering lights of the gas station start    to whisper in my ear about you, somewhere out there                                     (with her, beside her, kissing her,                                     her soft hair fisted in cold hands                                     that i once held so tight in mine),    but of course i never believed that  

i.    when we woke up together in the morning, everything was fine.    you never looked so lovely as you did in the hazy light of dawn.        (softness of your lips, curled shadow of long lashes on your cheek,        sweet tender warmth of your skin on mine.)    darling, don't you remember? how we moved and touched and laughed,    how i held you so close under the covers and we talked for hours about    nothing at all.        (but you came into my life so suddenly that it seems only fitting        that you should leave in the same way.) ii.    there's a district to the west of town called poet's corner, and    of course

                                     DARLING,                            I ALWAYS DREAM IN                    COLOR AND TONIGHT I'M            DREAMING IN RADIANT YELLOW,        DREAMING OF KISSING A GIRL,    DREAMING OF SUN AND SUNFLOWERS AND LEMONADE IN THE SUMMER. YELLOW BUTTERFLIES BLOOM IN MY LUNGS,  HONEY SPILLS IN RIVULETS FROM MY   LIPS. DARLING, YOU DROWN ME IN       SWEETNESS. DARLING, YOU               UNMAKE ME.