Her frame exposed from the way her dress hugs her body
leads her to feel that oh too familiar feeling
of disgust, of judgment, of guilt, of shame.
This day only comes once a year,
yet she allows the demons to dwell in that pretty head of hers.
Unable to shake the thoughts of deceit
she continues to smile.
She dances.
She laughs.
She dances some more.
The ceiling spinning, the lights flashing, the floor moving
she begins to fall.
Her figure has been wasting away for a while now,
food being a foreign object to her frail self.
Had she been told that she was beautiful growing up,
had she been told that she was worthy,
had she been told that she was loved,
had she been told that she was wanted,
maybe things would be different.
Maybe.

People surround her as she lies on the floor.
They know.
They know her secrets.
Exposed and vulnerable she comes back to the surface,
surrounded by the ones who love her for her strength, her patience,
her resilience, and her friendship.

One night.
It was all she had wanted.
One night to feel beautiful.
One night to feel free.
One night to let her walls down and be.
What she failed to realise was that tonight gave her all of those things.
Exposed, she entered the next step of her journey to self discovery.
She began her journey to health and healing,
knowing that in the ugliness she is beautiful
and in the tears that flow she gains freedom,
and that her sisters in Christ see her as God see's her:
a unique, fragile piece of art.

You bring out this weird thing inside me
      Something I haven't experienced before
            It bubbles up like dish soap in a sink
     & then it pours over the sides every time
            I hear your laugh

             When you tell me something nice,
                    you don't understand how little I get it
             & it makes me smile for more than seconds,
       but minutes, hours, days, every time
             I hear your voice

             You held my hand differently than others
      Like you had something to say with your fingers,
maybe a story about how well they fit entangled
      with one another's or a short love story every time
            I feel your touch

"So will you go to prom with me," you asked me,
       so casually, but I didn't need anything big or more
              like I thought I wanted because that all changed
       as soon as I met you & fell for your charm every time
             *I see you

Prom:* the fabled dance that
every student looks forward to
at the end of their senior year
and looks back to every year.
I remember my prom,
the one I didn’t go to*
instead, I went out with
the girl that I fell for
and her younger brother
to the silver screen.
It wasn’t magical
but it was something
that I’ve remembered to this day.

© Matthew Harlovic

The storms have set in fast this year
The wet skies a little sticky to the ear
Chalk fizzing in the water but it doesn't affect us in town
and again the leaves have skipped amber to brown;
the ships dock faster every September that rolls around
and the captain keeps telling us he's found less, and less-
by now we've all been wearing the same stuff for years
- Bar sodden coats and lipstick smears
but the word with my friends is since that summer on the shore
We've never come this far inland before.
It's the last term now and the older years that are closest
tell us that the new kids catch on faster, they've noticed
but that's something we're not supposed to discuss
soaking up heavy sunlight like a dusty curtain letting its motes spin
And in the backrooms - new fashion is emerging
and again we're handling with faux grandiose -
the kids at the bottom of the class need this stuff most.
we're not likely to forget.
and that moment when the girl in the pink stood and told us
she wasn't convinced she needed us anymore
and lunch was silent.

All the men at school act like they care
But cold chairs and icy fingers forced their hand
and god knows I'm not quiet anymore -
but I don't think i'll miss the school gore.

My dress, my dress
Girls gabbing about Prom
The almighty Prom
It's all any of you talk about
December to May
What dress to buy
What hair to have
But all I can think about is him
And how I'd love
To have our own
Prom, a private prom
And just be with him

We laughed as we watched,
We smiled as we played.
Then suddenly came a Romeo
to surprise my day.
He asked to play,
I nodded to agree.
Little did I know,
They set it up for me.
I spoke of numbers,
He moved the options,
I chose one paper,
there popped the question.
Go with me? He had written,
I sat staring, not saying a word.
Actually shocked and yet a bit smitten.
Jeers surfaced, wolf whistles released.
My cheeks' red however, somehow increased.
My heart was pounding,
was this really true?
I guess so,
since I said yes to you.

Tomorrow
Tomorrow is big
Tomorrow marks the last
The last semester
Of high school.

Tonight
Tonight is stressful
Tonight marks that last
Scared feeling
Of high school.

Second semester
Last semester
Senior year
Spring break
Prom
Graduation

I never thought
It'd come to an end
I'm scared out of my mind
But it needs to end

I live in a box
Wake up
Go to school
See the same people
Go home
Sit in my room
Go to bed

I can't break the box
Until I leave this place
I can't leave this place
Until I break the box

So I run in circles
And I wait for the end

-r.y.s

the curves on my
frame are the lines of
a sketch bent slightly
too far; i'm an awkward
angle in geometry
class no one dares to
find and this tiny black

dress is revealing too
much in too little
time. the whispers of
crisscrossed marked
thighs and starry knees
swirl before me and i'm

gone, disconnected. they say
black is slimming but
i've never felt more
potent and i hope
to god no one can see
right through me.

formal dances aren't
ideal for the invisible.