Aerial M. McAdams

Quiet

———

I love him, God help him,
and I can't love me more yet.

I love her, I love them;
two familiar reflections

I love him in quiet,
Like a pinky-promised secret,

But f**k if it's not consistent

I love him, in the
hyper-focus,
memorize-his-language,
learn-the-differences,
discern-the-meaning,
know-the-risks-
yet-choose-him-every-time,
way...

the
all-my-friends-hate-him-
but-I-want-him-anyway...

I used to hate myself
and all my intensity,

but my love is a fire
burning without apology,
a flame that flirts
with possibilty,
loud and messy,
anything-but-boring,
and yet...

my love is a hearth
ready to warm his hands,
a candlelit meal,
a soft place to land...

I love him, God help me...

I love her, I love them;
their symmetry,

How it dances around me,
teases gravity,
drowns in my honeysuckled,
sickly-sweet melancholy

I love him, God help me, please...

I love him,
even when he can't love me

Performative

Another wave of files released,
Atrocities long covered up,
Retracted names filling in;
"I don't care who is on the list,"
You say, "Lock them all up,"
You say, "I hope they rot,"
You say, and suddenly,

I am 12 again.
You are asking why
Your 31-year-old friend
Is telling me he loves me;
Texting the specific things
He intends to do to me

I am 12 again.
You drive to his place to have a talk;
"I don't understand it,"
You say, "But he loves you,"
You say, "We can trust him,"
You say, and in a blink,

I turn 13.
His body hovers over me,
Fingers unwrapping my clothes
While I wriggle away,
"I don't want that,"
I whisper, "I can't lose you,"
I whisper, and still he persists,
Breath icy on my neck,
"But you say you love me,"
He whines, "I thought you were mature,"
He whines, "This is how you show me,"
He whines, and in an instant,

I am 13 again.
My face red hot,
Called out of class
And questioned by the cops;
"Don't say anything,"
You say, "They will take you from me,"
You say, "You won't see any of us again,"
You say, and the tears flow
As I plead for his forgiveness

I am 13.
Carrying his shame in my backpack,
Dreading the start of 7th grade,
Where all I hear are rumors around my name
"She has always been boy crazy," they sneer,
"She chased him," they sneer,
"Her body is practically a woman's," they sneer,

I am a teen,
And my body becomes currency
You spend without asking

I am now 14.
You catch another man
Smoking w**d and making out with me
Behind the garage,
You scream profanities,
And make him leave.

I am 14.
Eyes glued to the tile in the kitchen,
As you slide the first blade in,
"I expect this from him,"
You say, "but you know better,"
You say, "haven't you learned anything?"
You ask, and then

I am 15.
And you surprise me with plane tickets
For my 22-year-old boyfriend to visit,
On Christmas he unwraps me,
And the whispers from middle school
Come back to haunt me,

I am 15.
Shame ripples through my body,
As I confess the act to you,
But you make a joke and smile at me,
Then take me to get an IUD;
"I'd rather it be under my roof,"
You say, "just to be safe,"
You say, and soon

I am 16.
And that same man
Is holding a gun against my temple,
Thrusting his hips,
Murmuring about my "teenage p***y lips",
While I stare at the light in the hallway

I am 16.
And my feet are frozen,
My door is widely cracked,
Your snores echo from the next room,
But my throat has forgotten how to open

I am a teen,
And already I've lost track
Of the men eyeing my body.
How many have touched me?

How many were your friends?

I am 17.
And suddenly I am not your daughter,
I am a "slut" and I
"Asked for this",
"It's not my fault,"
You say, "You open your legs
For any older man showing you attention,"
You say, "sounds like daddy issues,"
You joke, and that jab drove the blade so deep,
It finally found bone

I am now 28.
And your outrage online
Is much too late;
Your blade still sits in my back

What are some things you'd like to see from me?

I have been considering making some videos. Obviously want to record some readings of my poetry, but I was also thinking about some topics I could cover. I am fascinated by the different writing processes, and I'm thinking maybe doing some exploration into poetic devices could be fun.

Thoughts??? 🤔

The Art vs The Artist series

Part 5:

On an unrelated note, I need some concealer recs, please 🥺

I did not set a goal this year for the number of poems I wanted to write. After writing 168 poems over the course of 4 years, I proved to myself I would stay consistent enough to not need a goal to keep me going. This year has been more focused in improving my writing skills overall and educating myself more on poetic devices and things like that.

Here is my current list of completed poems for the year. I have more WIPs than I can count right now 😅 But I am very proud of the pieces I've written 😊 and averaging 3-4 poems a month is still nothing to scoff at!

I highlighted my personal favorites. Are therr any titles that speak to you?? 🤔

When I want to write:

- late at night
- at home
- by myself

When I am inspired to write:

- middle of the day
- at work
- around a bunch of strangers

The Art vs The Artist series

Part 4:

I don't take many "silly" selfies 😅 Maybe I should start lol.

If you are an artist of any sort & would like to use my slides to do this with your own stuff, that'd be dope!! Or, if ya wanna drop your art & selfies below, I'd love to see it 🥰

a new (to you) piece 💙 very loosely inspired by a friend's newly released poetry book 🥰

The Art vs The Artist series

Part 3: