Green is not my color

Daffodils are my favorite flowers.

Once upon a time, one whole year ago, I had green hair in the spring. It was an accident, and I felt like Anne of Green Gables when she tried to dye her hair raven black and it turned out green instead. I was so sad. It happened because I was hypomanic. I met a strange man in the hot tub at 2am the night before and then my hair went from blonde to purple to green. I think it's because I saw the man that sexually assaulted me at goodwill on my birthday (a few days before) and I crashed out. Then my body tried to balance and I ended up with green hair and a hurt heart.

This year, in the spring, my hair is blonde, but my nails are green. My nails are green because I like a boy that doesn't like me as much as I like him. I got my nails done green (not my color) because it's his favorite color. But then the next day, I picked a fight because I was anxious and jealous and confused. And he didn't see my green nails at all. Then I wrote a poem for him. He hasn't seen that either. My friends hate him and he made me cry, but I still want him - isn't that awesome. My therapist says my issue isn't forming attachments, it's keeping them. So who knows what the right choice is. I do know that I am bad at things that aren't exclusive because I want to be wanted as a whole person for once and not just used for my body. I don't really expect that to ever happen at this point, but he told me to think about what I want and then get back to him at the end of the week with whether I want to see him again. And I do, but he made it clear that he doesn't want a relationship with me, so I don't know that it would be wise to go back to the same situation that was hurting my feelings before. Anyway, this is the poem I wrote for the tatted mustache boy and his cats.

-

About Cats

When I visit you, I get cat hair on my socks.

Milka, the spotted white cat, needs her nails trimmed.

She’s scratched my thighs three times now.

Still, I love to visit,

to be squished together on your couch,

to become entangled in your mirror. 

Your lips on my neck, fingers inside me,

dizzy while you pull my hair.

Your dark amber eyes on mine, blue and wide.

Tell me I can’t kiss you back

while you trace my sides,

and say, 

“It’s my favorite thing.” 

I’ll laugh, “I could pretend to be bad.”

You laugh too,

and I get on my knees 

to look up at you. 

I kiss the bow and arrow tattooed on your right hip,

my left.

We move to green sheets by moonlight, 

beside the fan that looks like Eve from Wall-e.

you

me

and spanish lullabies are mixed in those sheets. 

The last time I saw you,

you laid on top of me for a five-minute hug

my legs wrapped tight around your back.

It was so still, and I wanted to stay like that forever

feeling your weight above and your arms beneath me.

When I wore my black 80s short shorts,

it was purely performative.

So was coming over braless, 

cropped black t-shirt.

You called me smart the first time I didn’t wear a bra.

I wanted you to think I was smart.

You kissed my forehead one, four,

five times that night,

for safe travels.

I hate this game.

Of other girls knowing your sheets

and your mirror and your cats.

Of not being yours.

So, I sent you a list of grievances.

You never remember what I say and

I didn’t want to be blocked on snapchat,

or watch you carry your forest green phone

into the bathroom again,

while I tell Tallah, the striped kitten, about the movie,

pretending we’ll actually finish it this time. 

Because,

The thing is,

I didn’t like cats until I liked you.

They are moody and standoffish.

They are so particular.

Their hair gets everywhere,

and it’s hard to wash out.

And I don’t know how to say I miss you,

but I do. 

-

Anyway, I am behind in most of my classes and it's hella late and the White Lotus finale was good, but the ending didn't really hit the way I want it to. Like it didn't feel like commentary on anything important and that frustrated me, but who's to say what the point of life or tv or anything is. I have learned hella about vampires recently though, so I'll be back with way more about that by the end of the week.

Yours Truly,

Macy