Poems from TargaryenGirl

TargaryenGirl's picture
My name is Alena, and I’m a Creative Writing major and Philosophy minor in the first semester of my sophomore year at New England College. After college I’ll probably do Peace Corps or something along those lines, and then go to grad school to get my MFA in Poetry. When I grow up (never!) I wanna be a travel writer— think Anthony Bourdain, but a little cuter and a lot less drunk. I enjoy writing and performing poetry, feminism-ing, fangirling, laughing at jokes that aren’t funny (which usually I’ve just told), procrastinating homework in favor of blogging, and sing-yelling to Mumford & Sons songs and show tunes with my friends.
I. “Or maybe I’m just speaking too highly of my scrawny ass...” he says, perching on the end of my bed in his undies. his ass really is...
And suddenly it hits me like a punch in the gut that I can BE all these beautiful things I read: I can cut off my hair and wear fishnet...
I found my voice and, boy, it’s pissed. How dare you use me how dare you make me think this could ever be something other than whatever it...
You are loved. 
Forget what mama said
 when she was angry 
because you didn’t agree.
 Turn away from that 
boyfriend you had,
 the one who...
weakness in my lungs in my ribs and I don’t want to understand “Here we go again!” I’ve been over this in my head thousands of times: I’m...

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