Read Poem: growing, by Lauren Bell

i listened to the dry thunder in the distance
and drank a sip of the coffee they told me was immoral
what a day

i used to swear i was destined for street lights and silk
and taxi cab horns and stilettos and stage names
but now I just tell people i like to write when they ask
i like to write

i used to dream about being all grown up when i was a kid
little did i know i was about as grown up as i was going to get
i still feel like i’m nine and know everything-
or that i’m nineteen and know nothing at all

i’ve taken to going on walks in the evening sun
thinking about the shapes of trees
and the shape of my life and the shape of all the lives i could’ve lived
my shoulders are red and sunburnt but at least my head is full of ideas
i always forget i am so young

i used to believe in heaven and hell
but these days i don’t believe in much at all
and to say i did would be a sin, huh

i used to wish my skin would be clear and my ribs weren’t so prominent
and that i was faster and stronger and smarter
but she forgot that she was pretty and healthy and still growing
and so am i

growing up is both a punishment and prize for being born
for existing, in the simplest way
did the extra inches forced into my legs
make up for all the times i should’ve stood up for myself?
did the scars from the smattering of acne across my face
pay the debt for envying the girls in my class whose hormones kicked in early?
did the hurt in my heart do anything either?
what did i do to deserve that?
the stupidness of youth, i think

punished for ‘i didn’t know better’ and the betrayal of my own body

i walked into my apartment and wished for my childhood bed