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Limitless

What has life taught you today?
Don’t fail to acknowledge the
teachings of your days–ever.
Today I was presented with a lesson
I could not deny:
The universe is simultaneously
strange and wonderful.
My perceived weakness
ended up being the strength
that will carry us through
to the corners of time.

Continue reading Limitless

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Believer

You had a dream. You had plans and things seemed to be in order. Until they weren’t. Until they changed. And that person you trusted with your everything turned into someone else. And you ask yourself how you didn’t see it coming, how could you not know. But you didn’t, because you trusted them, you believed them. And you blame yourself. But it’s not your fault. You can’t be guilty of trusting the good you were showed. You are not guilty of believing they felt the same way about your life, your dreams… because they said they did. Because they showed you they did. Because they planned that life with you. Before they turned into everything you wanted to run away from. And it’s hard to turn around and see your dream have turned into a nightmare. But it’s harder to pretend you didn’t see it. So you fight if you must. You run if you must. And you start again. But you never, ever stop believing. In yourself. And in the good you see in others.

© Máh Lima

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The Last Summer of Our Childhood

It was getting a bit cooler and the sun didn’t hit so hard. We sat on the stairs with sweat running down our necks. Cold vanilla ice cream cones with the rainbow sprinkles, from the Mister Softee Ice Cream truck: everyone’s favorite. We ate and laughed and giggled and rested. The jump ropes resting by us. The wind came by to say hello, and the park was waving goodbye to us. Us four girls wearing our sweats, our shalwars, our sneakers, or flats. Our hair tied back in braids and ponytails. We had an innocence and we had silliness. None of us thought of the misery coming up. That was the summer before we all would enter the reality. The last summer of our childhood.

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Anxiety

I’ve always described it like
time moving too fast and too slow
all at once.
The other day,
it was heavy.
Heavy glass,
where no air could come in.
I was too small to exist,
but too large for my body.
You were windows,
massive windows
leading me through a hallway.
Through a narrow space
on either side,
you provided a pathway for me,
pulling me through the casement.
A relentless cover,
protecting, yet
setting me free.

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To Whom it May Concern

My boss told me he stares at my ass all day and it’s just a joke, lighten up. “Come on, I’m only kidding” he says. And it’s nothing, really. The comments and the stares. They are so small and meaningless; how dare I make mountains out of mole hills?

“Smile,” he commands. Because who would want to stare at a resting bitch face? I need to look pretty and what better way to make me smile than to order me to? No, he’s not threatening me. Because he smiles as he says it. He stops smiling when he tells me that men like their women “young and tight.” This is serious now. I need to remember biology. “Younger girls are just attracted to older men.”

Us women, we must love being told what to do. We must love being harassed at work. We fucking love it when you ask about our marriages and joke about them ending. We love it when you call us sweet cheeks. We fucking swoon over that shit. I am standing on my soapbox now- a mountain, if you will: tell me to smile one more time and I will cut your lips off to make it happen.

m.e. peters