bombshell

I am cozied up on my new sofa, in my new apartment watching love island.

a hot new bombshell just entered the villa!

her stomach is flat, her teeth cut from freshwater pearls, her thighs have that desirable gap.

as I fall into a bottomless pit of self loathing, picking myself apart

wondering if anyone would find me "fit" on the show

another bombshell just dropped

families are being ripped apart

forcibly separated by ICE

by the trump administration

to their own island

Alligator Alcatraz

exactly what it sounds like.

Spanish speaking children are representing themselves in immigration court

detainees sleeping are in bunkers, going weeks without essential medications

agents are infiltrating public school grounds, interrogating students about their citizenship

a local, family-owned diner is receiving threats on their answering machine: ICE knows about you. They're coming to get you.

A family running late to their daughter's college graduation

her father went to pull the car around

so his parents, his wife, his kids, could wait comfortably

was thrown to the ground and shoved in a van

currently sitting in a detention center.

No, sorry.

Let's call it what it is.

A Concentration Camp.

American Citizens.

Citizens.

People.

Humans.

But, of course,

"Tana Mongeau hates Brooke Schofield"

"Huda is crashing out"

"Benson Boone has a Crumbl cookie"

"I didn't get the sea salt Labubu"

Open your fucking eyes

This shit is embarrassing.

Your privilege (and mine) will be the downfall of this great country.

Your comfort is putting others in danger.

Say something.

Talk about it.

Have difficult conversations.

penelope

today i met a girl

named penelope.

her coils, tied up in pigtails

were almost as bouncy & bubbly

as her spirit.

if her pink ensemble

& glitter engulfed hands

didn't catch your attention

the warm, golden glow

illuminating the world

through her curious eyes

would surely do the trick.

her clumsy fingers held

up a number, as she proudly

exclaimed

"i'm four!"

something i could tell she'd been practicing.

as penelope admired

my dress

my hair

my accessories

she looked up at me as she realized...

"are you a princess?"

i so badly wanted to tell her

she re-ignited my spark, for,

as i was getting dressed this morning

i wasn't sure who i was

or if i liked what i was looking at

but i quickly remembered

penelope saw in me the same golden glow

i saw in her

so, of course, i replied

"why yes, i am." because

to deny my royalty

would be denying hers, too.

and penelope

was a princess

if i'd ever met one.

as we said our goodbyes

i felt a mutual gratitude

and admiration

that would not be soon forgotten

if my four year old self only knew

She'd grow up to be a princess,

a welcoming, loving, inviting presence

to girls like penelope

to girls who sparkle

to girls like Herself

maybe She wouldn't wonder

so much

what to wear

who She was

if she liked what She was looking at

or if She was worthy of a tiara

thank you,

princess penelope

for now, when i see Her

admiring my reflection in the mirror

i will curtsy

and smile back at Her.

to my love.

In the warm breath of a dwindling summer,

I trace on your back

the outline of what was once only our world—

two silhouettes holding one another under a silky sun.

We spoke in secret whispers,

believing in the silent truths exchanged

in between the lines of our careful lies,

the ones we gave each other

and the ones we told ourselves

as if time was not to be feared,

but enjoyed

in the warmth of your embrace.

Yet the warming season faded,

and with it, the fantasy of our make-believe scene.

the once-vibrant colors of our adoration

fractured and fell into muted shades,

scattered across the remnants of forgotten promises.

We shattered like the links of a once-tethered chain,

our conversations now echoing in an empty room

yet both of us are still inside.

the hope we clung onto turned to a dust,

haunting the corners of a memory that refuses to let go.

Now, as I stand alone in the happy scene

cherishing what we were,

the world stretches and warps in color-less grey

the low murmurs of our past

seem to cut through the air whipping around me,

and I am left to stagger through the ruins,

hopelessly searching for fragments of a love

that no longer fits the shape of who I am becoming.