isn’t it romantic?

By Jessica Spencer

a pantoum

romantic, isn’t it?
short shorts, crop tops
seaside bliss
strolling in flip flops

short shorts, crop tops
stares become rough
strolling in flip flops
too fat, not enough

stares become rough
sun-dried tears
too fat, not enough
nothing changes but the year

sun-dried tears
pray for prettiness
nothing changes but the year
i fake happiness

pray for prettiness
seaside bliss
fake happiness
romantic, isn’t it?

i’m two

By Jessica Spencer

?i’m two.
not just two.
two and a half,
because the half matters when you’re little.

but i’m too young to understand why Mammy
rubs this coolness on my chest,
how it’ll hurt a little less
if I just give it a chance.

so, i’m two.
just too.
not too small to speak
but too young to be heard.
i cry when Mam tries
to pry
my mouth open, medicine in
they hear i don’t want it,
yet i’m still too little for them to listen.

but now, I’m not just two.
I’m twenty-two
but people still say I’m ‘too.’
too young for Friday nights in (although going out isn’t my thing)
too old for pokémon (but not pokémon go – the exception)

and i’m twenty-two but still not heard
i can’t put it down to age anymore
i was too young, but then I grew
then too quiet, so I started to shout
then too loud, so I learned to speak
but next I was too bossy (I wasn’t really)
so I began to just think.
and breathe in my own thoughts.
and let them go like CO2.
the unwanted byproduct of being too alive.

Photo by Sergei Akulich on Unsplash

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