Hey.

                                   I think I left my coat 

                                   & some baggage on &/or around you

                                   & I think maybe I left that last    

                                   conversation hanging in the air

                                   framed around that sad stare of yours,

                                   around those eyes telling me something 

                                   I don’t want to hear. 

                                   You were using telekinesis 

                                   to break my heart. 

                                   You were bending & shaping 

                                   my experience, 

                                   reminding me of my stubborn & impatient side 

                                   & that the world can hurt you with truths

                                   but also lies; 

                                   my mind gets to decide 

                                   which is worse.

                                   No one can tell me. 

                                   I’ll find out for myself

                                   because I need my coat back.

                                  Ripples of flames 

                                  consume the cells in my brain 

                                  & I am the blood rushing 

                                  towards whatever I let ignite me.

                                  Our touches kiss,

                                  I rearrange my hips,

                                  & forget about carrying my body 

                                  & thoughts around

                                  as you go down. 

                                  but I grab your hair

                                  to let you know 

                                  part of me is still there,

                                  lost in this familiar chase,

                                  falling into a vulnerable embrace.

                                          .Laura Curren.

               I love you like 
               overplaying my favorite song.
               I love you like 
               the pair of jeans I've worn for too long.
               Even when I get tired of the melody,
               even when you rip & you're tired of holding me,
               I still miss the feeling.

                       .Laura Curren.

                              On an episode of Forensic Files

                           Imagine being an envelope manufacturer 

                           & the machine that slices the stacks of paper 

                           into its shape has made a mistake 

                           & the flaps of glue don’t meet & match.

                           This is overlooked by the packagers

                           & is sent to the shelves with defunct folds.

                           How embarrassing to not deliver 

                           what it always strives to be, 

                           but imagine now that this seemingly stupid flaw

                           solves a murder. 

                           The killer’s typed threats were held 

                           & discovered by the odds of this error.

                                                .Laura Curren.

                                                               An Ode to Fuckboys

                          Tell me what you like
                          but not what you're like.
                          Something casual,                                       
                          nothing serious.
                          You're all pictures
                          & no description.
                          I know labels make you nervous
                          but my friends don't  
                          take my clothes off.
                          I know there's more pressure 
                          once you know my middle name 
                          & my birthday. 
                          I know expectations frighten you 
                          in the worst way
                          but a vague text about bad timing 
                          should get you off the hooks 
                          you've strategically been dodging.       
                          The reasons why you've been backflipping 
                          over dealing with feelings
                          can only be found
                          by sifting through your loneliness,
                          but that's not fun,
                          that doesn't make you cum. 
                          So until then, 
                          I hope you find the something 
                          & the nothing you're looking for. 
                         
                                   .Laura Curren. 
                          

                       

                   I liked having you nearby,

                   just around the corner,

                   always almost there.

                   I was thinking about it,

                   all the what if,

                   & maybe in another world

                   I would be yours

                   & you would be mine 

                   & all the what if 

                   became what is.

                               .Laura Curren.

              Why am I so preoccupied 

              with wasting my time?

              Whether it’s 

              typing on a magical rectangle-

              handheld or lap,

              why do I 

              escape myself?

              through someone else, 

              all the episodes of a show, 

              by staying up late,

              staying tired & out of it, 

              having the sudden urge 

              to put on a playlist 

              & clean every last corner 

              except for what’s going on inside,

              everything looking pretty 

              without admitting 

              it needs to be fixed.

              .Laura Curren. 

             Why would you attack your own face? 

             That’s like the billboard of your details,

             the display case of your moods.

             Why would you show people

             this is how you treat yourself,

             this is what you do. 

             Beauty is in the heart,

             but what you see affects you.

             I can’t tell you why 

             my fingernails become knives

             & pick at every suggestion of imperfection. 

             but I would say  

             this is a weird form of control.

             This is a strange way to hinder myself.

             Some small relief 

             for a bigger picture I don’t want to see.

             It’s a compulsion

             to dig at the surface but not within.

             I can edit myself & paint on my pride,

             I can hide behind sunglasses 

             & filters

             but ultimately,

             I can’t mask my mentality.

              .Laura Curren.

                I hope you love yourself

                so you can love life too.

                I hope you learn to laugh, 

                even in the darkness of your own thoughts. 

                Please don’t be afraid

                when you have a taste 

                of bittersweet vulnerability.

                I hope you walk confidently, 

                that your fears won’t outweigh 

                all the wonderful you can be.

                I hope you speak clearly 

                & your words are crafted from compassion

                (which your mom & dad are full of).

                I hope you grow up knowing 

                that your heartbeat

                is connected to a long chain of love, 

                years in the making.

                In the end I’d like to believe

                it’s all the love you’ve ever given or received,

                embracing & supporting you, 

                every moment of beauty permeating your soul,

                every feeling & memory, every affinity

                suspended into infinity. 

                If I’m not here for you physically, 

                my love always will be.

                love,

                auntie Laura 

                                                                       

                                                                

                                       My dad gave me a sense of humor & his nose,

                                my mom gave her chin & optimism.

                                I’m somewhere between 

                                his realism & her mysticism.

                                I have their defense mechanisms,

                                mannerisms, 

                                & probably more isms. 

                                When I was shy & small,

                                I inherited both of their shells

                                but shy becomes awkward as an adult

                                so I’m a party turtle now,

                                fun loving & social 

                                but wanting to disappear 
                                into my own home. 

                                I poke my head out 

                                & check the weather,

                                hoping to improve myself

                                                                       

                                because I am the love
                                I give & take,     
                                animated by

                                the energy I create,

                                passed on to whoever I make,

                                whoever let’s me into 

                                their space or experience. 

                                .Laura Curren.

                       

                       The pharmacist said it was like a forest fire

                       & whichever medication I choose 

                       won't bring back the burnt trees 

                       but it will fight about 30-60% of the flames.

                       I can't get my trees back?

                       It’s a strange thing to be told my body 

                       is working against me. 

                       It’s a strange thought to wonder if I gave this to myself 

                       from doubt & worry & stress,

                                             self sabotaging or blaming the wrong things
                       or too many beauty products or microwaved meals,
                       who knows.

                       I think in some ways I’ve always avoided myself

                       so this was a rude physical reminder 

                       that my time gets eaten by those who don’t offer
                       transparency to me,     

                       That wrestling my self doubt is actually won 
                       by asking why it’s there.

                                     

                        On my brother’s birth certificate 
                        my mom wrote, “human” under race. 

                        I know skin color is an adjective 

                        that comes with baggage 

                        & it falls on a spectrum of stereotypes. 

                        These labels haunt my idea of peace 

                        when we are nothing left but energy.

                        Imagine if you looked at your soul 

                        outside of your body, 

                        what color would it be? 

                        What type of emotions, efforts, 

                        & dreams would you see? 

                        Would you be a tornado of anger 

                        & unresolved issues? Would you be 

                        a sweeping hand of comfort? 

                        Would you be passion 

                        unfurling its petals? 

                        My mom knew that people 

                        liked their categories 

                        but she understood, above all else,

                        if this earth is called mother,

                        she can die of a broken heart. 

                        .Laura Curren.

                            It sounded rehearsed

                            like canned remorse, 

                            like so many times before.

                            Your feelings have changed,

                            your eyes aren’t the same; 

                            they look away & through me,

                            as if you knew me.

                            This is best described as 

                            a polite kick in the ribs

                            but what hurt me even more

                            is that I found myself 

                            saying your words

                            to someone else.

                            .Laura Curren.