the boys i've loved & the end of the world

by Catarine Hancock

  small and unimportant)

  in retrospect i may have been

  a little too hopeful

  considering you never gave a shit about me

  (i just wanted you to so badly)

  so i suck in mouthfuls of dust and swallow the sand

  that's gathered under my tongue while i've stood here

  not loving

  not living

  not breathing

  for anyone else but you

  (it's a wonder i didn't crumble to nothing)

  -c.h.

  a series of short poems on the boys who love(d) me

  1. you were my first everything

  and you ruined me you are

  why i have doubts about boys

  when they tell me they love me

  but we were young and stupid

  i've finally forgiven you

  2. i kissed you to try and get

  over number one i stole your first kiss

  you said i was your first love too

  i didn't love you sometimes i think

  about your face when i told you the truth

  i have never stopped being sorry

  1. when you came back i thought you'd

  changed you promised things were

  different i believed you because

  i had never stopped loving you and

  things were great until i realized you'd

  never stopped loving her either

  3. you were sad and i thought i could

  save you but you can't just kiss

  depression away i will always regret

  giving up on you so soon but i am

  too selfish for someone as pure as you

  you deserve the best in the world and

  i thank you for finally forgiving me

  4. i will always smile when i think of you

  there was nothing wrong with us you

  just can't fix something that was built

  already broken down i truly believe that

  you've never not belonged with her

  i was just a road stop on the way

  5. i thought you were the end i meant

  every promise i ever made to you

  but instead of talking to me you were

  making out with girls you didn't care

  about and that's when you started to

  slowly break my heart

  6. i wanted to show number five i could

  kiss my friends for fun too i didn't mean

  to fall in love with you i'm sorry i made you

  want to kill yourself when i ended it but i

  hope you've grown up because threatening

  suicide won't make me love you again

  5. i guess i didn't realize how much you loved

  me until you almost lost me to number six

  but we will never find someone who loves us

  as much as we love each other we are

  soulmates and you kissed another girl

  it doesn't matter you're my soulmate right

  7. you were the kindest person i'd ever

  met you bought me gifts and told me

  i was pretty but you didn't like how

  i would shout my opinions and when i

  refused to change you left i learned that night

  that no boy is worth changing who you are

  5. you had me wrapped around your finger

  and my heart locked in a cage you would stab

  it whenever i'd try to pull away so while

  you were kissing someone else i broke in

  and took it back after all those months

  i finally took it back

  8. you've loved me for a long time and i'm

  sorry it took me so long to figure it out

  but i'm here now and i don't plan on leaving

  you are mine and i am yours forever and

  always i will love you for forever and always

  i promise i promise i promise

  5. i finally get why you'd kiss other girls and

  not worry about losing me i now know what

  it's like to have someone love you so much

  you could do anything and they would stay

  the difference is that i wouldn't ever act on it

  i don't want to break him like you did me

  5. i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm

  sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

  i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

  i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

  i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

  and i shouldn't be

  5. do you realize now how much you meant to

  me how i had counted on us if you called for

  help i would still come to you if you needed a

  friend i would be there in a strange way you

  are still mine and i am still yours but we were

  never meant to be forever and always

  -c.h.

  ten things that told me you never loved me at all

  1.four months in, i asked you, “do you know how i like my coffee?” and you frowned. “no,” you said, “but i know when your birthday is. i remember the big things.” but you forgot that i loved you, and that was the biggest thing of all.

  2. after you first kissed me, you shrugged. i never understood the shrug until now. i was never more than a shrug to you, in the grand scheme of things, just a moment of ‘i guess,’ and to me, you were the epitome of ‘absolutely.’

  3. when i first said “i love you,” you hesitated. you always hesitated with me. it was never the nervous kind, or the shocked kind. it was always the kind of hesitation when you don’t mean what you’re about to say. the kind of hesitation before you lie.

  4. one time, i said, “baby, i’ll always wait for you. if you ever have to leave, i’ll wait for you to come back.” you said, “okay.”

  5. when you left, you told me, “i never wanted it to be this deep. i never wanted you to fall in love with me. this wasn’t supposed to be serious.” i spent the next three months wondering if i was the problem; maybe i confused infatuation with love. but now i know that deep down, you were just angry at yourself. because you were telling the truth: you didn’t want it to be this deep, but you let it happen. and knowing this doesn’t make it any less painful.

  6. you never once apologized for breaking my heart. not while you were leaving, when i was sobbing and telling you that breaking my heart was, in fact, exactly what you were doing. nor did you apologize in the months that followed. even now, i wait to hear from you. not because i still love you, but because i just want to know that you finally understand what you did. i don’t think you ever will.

  7. you never wanted to post pictures of me. or with me, frankly. you never brought me to any parties. when we hung out, it was always just us. maybe you were ashamed of yourself, but i always just thought i was an embarrassment. you never did anything to reassure me that i wasn’t.

  8. a month later, i texted you. “i just want to know if you’re sorry. at all. even just the slightest bit. all i want is closure.” you read it, and didn’t reply, and that gave me my answer.

  9. i saw you, once, at a party. alone. we spoke, briefly, and i said, “you let me waste half of a year on you. you could have stopped it before i was too far gone.” you sighed, “i know i could’ve.” i remember feeling so angry, so hateful. “then why didn’t you?” and you looked at your feet, “i just kept hoping that i would feel something. anything. for your sake,” and then you looked at me as if that equated to an apology. “you’re full of shit,” i spat, “you’re not sorry. you loved the attention, and i bet you loved knowing that i was crying over you for months.” you ran your hands through your hair, but you didn’t say i was wrong.

  10. four months in, i asked you, “do you know how i like my coffee?” and you frowned. “no,” you said, “but i know when your birthday is.” three weeks later, my birthday passed. and y
ou forgot.

  -c.h.

  trans rights are human rights

  society has taught us what we think is true;

  girls like pink and boys like blue,

  “there are no exceptions, no in-betweens,

  there aren’t any genders left unseen.”

  it’s engraved into us since we’ve been born,

  a patch in our mind that’s not easily torn.

  so when a boy likes dresses but a girl does not,

  some can’t understand; it’s not what they were taught.

  but not understanding is not an excuse

  to be hateful or condescending; they’re not just “confused.”

  they know who they are and they deserve respect,

  they deserve happiness and acceptance, not anything less.

  if “he” wants to be “she,” you call them just that,

  you don’t fight or argue, you don’t treat them like trash.

  their pronouns are important and if you beg to differ;

  sorry, you don’t get to decide another one’s gender.

  who cares if it’s “weird” or you don’t know why,

  it’s not about what you think, it isn’t your life.

  you respect their decision because it doesn’t harm you;

  get over it: some boys like pink and some girls like blue.

  -c.h.

  to those who claim they don’t need feminism:

  take a step back.

  maybe a few steps back, for some of you.

  take a step back out of your world and look at our world, the

  world you’re still a part of whether you’d like to be or not.

  take a step back and listen to the bones crunching beneath your

  feet.

  the spines snapping under your toes.

  the hair tangled in between your neatly trimmed fingernails.

  look at our bodies.

  our bodies, that we have bent and broken into a staircase for

  you to walk up.

  our bodies, that we have have torn and ripped to pieces so you

  could use our limbs as a handrail.

  our bodies, that have been branded with slurs and jeers that

  you won’t have to endure because of it.

  this platform that you stand upon, this platform you think

  makes you above the rest of us women who are still fighting,

  who are still unsatisfied–

  we built this for you.

  you stand atop the skeletons of susan b. anthony, sojourner

  truth, eleanor roosevelt, betty frieden, maya angelou, coretta

  scott king.

  tell me, would you tell these women that you don’t need

  them?

  that you don’t need their accomplishments? the rights they

  fought their entire lives for? the rights they cried, yelled,

  protested, and died for?

  tell me, could you have done what they did?

  without them, you would not be able to stand so tall.

  without them, you would not be able to declare your strength

  and independence.

  without feminism, you wouldn’t be able to say that you don’t

  need just that.

  feminism.

  we are not asking for you to lay down with us,

  to take the blows as we do.

  keep your primped hair and your manicured nails, and keep

  your distance. some people will never be cut out to fight.

  and that’s okay. we have enough fight for all of us.

  we just ask that perhaps, instead of shunning us and ignoring

  history, you open your eyes, and maybe offer a bit of thanks.

  -c.h.

  untitled love poem (because i'm not sure what we are)

  i think you'll taste like

  sprite,

  because something about

  you is crisper,

  sharper,

  than just taking a bite

  out of a peach.

  there is more to you

  than sugar.

  and i think you'll feel like

  springtime,

  even the thunderstorms,

  but i like the rain,

  almost as much as i like

  new beginnings and flowers.

  most of all, though,

  i think i'm falling in love

  with you,

  all the sour bites

  and lightning strikes included.

  i can shift my fingers through

  the soil of us and feel the seeds

  sprouting.

  i hope they dig their roots

  down deep.

  -c.h.

  twenty one days: a love story

  day one: it’s hot outside, simply sweltering, and there is sweat

  soaking through your shirt, but he has a friendly smile and

  warm eyes. “honestly, i’m sort of a bitch,” you tell him. he

  nods, looks you over. “yeah, you look like one,” he says, “but i

  don’t mind.”

  day two: at lunch, you tell him you are in love with somebody.

  “i don’t think he’s real,” he laughs, and when you ask why, he

  just shrugs. “i just don’t think he is.” you think you see

  sadness in his eyes.

  day three: you watch how he moves, how his eyes crinkle as

  he smiles, how he frowns when his hair falls in his face. you

  remind yourself that you are in love with somebody. there is a

  jolt of pain in your heart.

  day four: there are moments when the light catches his eyes

  and you feel your heart shake in its cage. “no,” you tell

  yourself that night, “absolutely not.”

  day five: the stars look pretty tonight, but they are not the only

  beautiful thing you see. he tells you about a girl that broke him

  two years ago and you tell him about the boy that has yet to

  give back all the pieces. “can i say something?” he asks. “of

  course,” you respond. he says, “i’m just really glad i met you.”

  you go to bed smiling, and you hate yourself.

  day six: your friend asks you if he loves you and you don’t

  know what to say. “i’m in love with somebody else,” you

  stammer, and they raise their eyebrows. “does he know that?”

  there is a pause before you respond, “yes, of course he does.”

  day seven: you are supposed to be in love with somebody, you

  tell yourself in the shower. there is a ring on your finger that

  serves as a reminder. in the shower, you cry. nobody can hear

  you above the sound of the water.

  day eight: he reaches over and grabs your hand in the movie

  theatre. “no,” you want to say, but you don’t. you don’t pull

  away, and you grip his hand even tighter. “i love him,” you

  say later that night. “i know you do,” he whispers, “but maybe

  you could love me too.”

  day nine: he wraps his arm around your waist. “you look

  beautiful,” he murmurs to you and you hate yourself, you hate

  yourself for letting him say it and you hate yourself for loving

  the sound of his voice in your ear. “i can’t do this,” you start to

  cry, but he kisses your forehead. “yes you can,” he argues,

  “you just shouldn’t.”

  day ten: he asks you what you want to do. you look at his eyes,

  feel his hand burning into yours. “i’ll be yours,” you say, “but

  only for a little bit.” he smiles, but it was never the answer

  he’d hoped for.

  day eleven: you tell yourself that you don’t love him, simply

  because you can’t. at night, he tries to kiss you. you move so

&nbs
p; that he only kisses your cheek. “i can’t,” you say as you pull

  away. “and it’s not just because i shouldn’t. it’s because i love

  him. i love him.” you repeat it as you go to sleep, hoping

  you’d wake up and it’d be true again.

  day twelve: you let him hold your hand and you try to numb

  yourself to the electricity shooting through your fingers. when

  he asks if you’re okay, you smile and tell him, “of course.” he

  squeezes your hand tighter, and you feel your throat close.

  when you run to the bathroom, his friend tells him that he’s

  hurting you. he says, “i know. i know.”

  day thirteen: today you go out together. he asks you questions

  and you answer truthfully. he asks, “do you still love him?”

  you say, “i don’t know anymore.” then you grab his hand, and

  he smiles. at dinner he tells you he loves you, and you shake

  your head. “i know what you’re thinking, but it’s true.” you

  rest your head on his shoulder and sigh. “i think, i think i love

  you too.”he kisses your fingers, “will you ever know for

  sure?” you stare at the table, “i don’t know, maybe.”

  day fourteen: he cries today, and you feel panic spreading

  through you because you know it’s your fault. “i’m tired of all

  the missed opportunities,” he whispers, “you’re going to forget

  about me.” you grip his hand so tightly you know it hurts him.

  “i won’t forget, even if it doesn’t work out,” you promise. “but

  that’s the thing,” he whimpers, “i don’t want this to not work

  out.” you almost kiss him, but you are supposed to be in love