from lackluster midwestern glamor | Teen Ink

from lackluster midwestern glamor

September 21, 2018
By mynameiselle GOLD, Pewaukee, Wisconsin
mynameiselle GOLD, Pewaukee, Wisconsin
18 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I’m from raucous games of tag in a sprawling backyard

from autumn leaves down the back of my shirt

and my brothers’ sunshine laughter as I chase them for revenge.

I’m from family football games every Thanksgiving

from my gangly uncle’s war cry as he hikes me under his arm

and races to the sweet taste of a touchdown.

I’m from cannonball contests in the lake until the chime of the dinner bell

from soggy towels draped over dining room chairs

and rolled up newspaper thwacking me in the head

    for ruining my grandmother’s antique wood.


I’m from a desperate “Please call me Elle”

from giving therapy a second chance to mold my new beginning

and the tears of my mother as I learn to stop splitting myself open.

I’m from the only green eyes in my family, like dim-lit emeralds

from feeling unique instead of icy isolation

and grasping confidence after years of soul-searching.

I’m from notebooks filled cover to cover in curling blue ink

from poems and vignettes to filter chaotic feelings

and assuring my momma that no they aren’t all sad,

    there is no need to cry.


I’m from believing lies about my best friend

from placing blame on him when it belonged elsewhere

and trying so hard to learn from my mistakes.

I’m from words flying like knives, hitting every target

from never learning conflict resolution

and a ping-pong game of hurt.

I’m from rediscovering best friendship in his basement

from Chinese take out and team-race Mario Kart

and belly-laughing until we end up on the ground

    tangled in lumps and heaps.


I’m from backstabbing and betrayal

from high school drama tearing apart my ribcage

and a red-eyed monster taking residence in my belly.

I’m from haunting memories at every turn

from echocardiograms, hollow loneliness

and wilting sunflowers masked by the stench of the hospital.

I’m from wishing people weren’t so touch and go

from praying the moon wouldn’t push-pull everyone like the tides

and discovering that some people are the exception

    that the people who matter always stick around.



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