Baldubs Dera

“My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:

1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?

of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”
he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
thing.
“how about you?”

me?
I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
these questions
ever again.”
― Caitlyn Siehl, What We Buried

“When the boys come with the intention of hurting you,
my advice will always stay the same, my darling:
Give 'em hell.”
― Caitlyn Siehl, What We Buried

“eat, baby.
eat.
chew.
please.
I know it hurts. I know it doesn’t feel good.
please.
I know your hunger is different than mine.
I know it doesn’t taste the same as mine.
imagine you could grow up all over again
and pinpoint the millisecond that you started
counting calories like casualties of war,
mourning each one like it had a family.
would you?
sometimes I wonder that.
sometimes I wonder if you would go back
and watch yourself reappear and disappear right in front of your own eyes.
and I love you so much.
I am going to hold your little hand through the night.
just please eat. just a little.
you wrote a poem once,
about a city of walking skeletons.
the teacher called home because you
told her you wished it could be like that
here.
let me tell you something about bones, baby.
they are not warm or soft.
the wind whistles through them like they are
holes in a tree.
and they break, too. they break right in half.
they bruise and splinter like wood.
are you hungry?
I know. I know how much you hate that question.
I will find another way to ask it, someday.
please.
the voices.
I know they are all yelling at you to stretch yourself thinner.
l hear them counting, always counting.
I wish I had been there when the world made you
snap yourself in half.
I would have told you that your body is not a war-zone,
that, sometimes,
it is okay to leave your plate empty.”
― Caitlyn Siehl

“I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
I think about sex constantly.
I hate your parents. I’m pretty sure they hate me.
Do you have any idea how fucked up this is?
I’ve been sleeping with my back to you for months now,
and you haven’t touched me once.
I almost went home with the guy who gave me change
at the bank. I almost asked his name.
I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
We don’t kiss like we used to. Your lips are always
cold and mine are always chapped.
Neither of us even apologize.
I haven’t shaved in days and you haven’t noticed.
I am insatiable.
I am a disaster just waiting to remember
the storm in her bones.
I am proud of this.
I want someone to fuck me so hard
that something inside of me snaps
and I can’t stop screaming ‘I love you, oh my God, I love you.’
I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
Sometimes, I genuinely think the sky is bleeding, and I don’t
know how to stop it.
I don’t think I am capable of staying put.
My bags are already packed. I’ve been waiting for you
to check the bedroom.
I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
I don’t know whose fault it is.
Let’s stop trying to make a broken thing work.
We were brave for trying.
We were brave for trying.”
― Caitlyn Siehl