Rose-Gold Aims, Pearlescent Despair by Olivia C (Tennessee)

How did we get here
The creek, with its moss adorned rocks
Never seemed quite that slippery until I fell headfirst
Into the water deep as you, shallow as me
Sugary as my hopes, lemony, caustic as the truth
Dark as the future that is evitable
So it now seems, at least

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As I swam deeper,
Formed relations with the fish
That tickled my toes with their fins
Anatomical external appendages 
Flapping at the speed of light
Away from the future everyone tries to ignore,
Turn a blind eye to

I was once a tadpole, ugly and unassuming
And while my physicality has 
Neither improved nor worsened,
I am now mature and forced to 
Make decisions for myself

I could have prevented it though
What awaits me beyond the gates of unsurety
Was defined by every step I took, 
Every thought I formulated, 
End every decision I made

I could have done it differently
If I hadn’t allowed dreams and aspirations
Seduce me and my heart, 
Vixens with a split up the side of their gowns
Whispering in my ear, beckoning me to come closer
Sea nymphs, whose soprano voices sang a song 
Doused in honeysuckle syrup, 
Too sweet to not stick a pinky into and taste

Napalm bombs drowned my eyes, but I swore 
It was just rain
Grenades popped underneath my toes
But I swore they were just fireworks
Machetes bore slits into my back,
Amber pus flowing in a marriage with my blood,
But I swore it was just a scratch
I dressed everything in what gold is incomparable to
And diamonds have always been jealous of
Too expensive, too priceless, 
Too rare to come by in any bootleg form: belief

I would have been just fine
If I had been an underachiever 
Like those closest to me
Free to gallop and roam the prairies of existence
Hooves, pounding on the unresponsive soil
Ignorant of the snakes and ticks preying on their downfall

But me, I had to be different, of course
An antithesis to formulaic familiarity
It leaves a foul taste in my mouth 
Every time I recount the way
I jumped at the chance to feel special
Pseudo-intelligence, pseudo-superiority
Just to name a few pins that adorned my lapel

Now, it tastes like pathetics garnished 
With a tint of durian and desperation
Now there is an air of expectation hanging 
Over my head, like a noose 
That just missed its mark
The throat of goals, the jugular of hopes
Now I have no god of sky to pray to
And no sunshine adorned prayers to bless me

And to think that there were nights 
Where I stayed up talking to the moon
Beckoning for the distance to be closed between us
So that I could whisper sweet-nothings into his ear
You have to pay to play, he said
You give me something, I’ll give you something in return

Now here I am, drunk off of cough syrup, 
Disillusioned with reality as psychoactive depressants, 
With their talons, drag me to the core of the earth,
Drained of disappointment, 
Deprived of a heartbeat that
Once ran at an allegro tempo, and 
Dissociated with the future I meticulously crafted for myself​

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Olivia C is a writer from Tennessee. She is passionate about poetry and entertainment/social journalism. She can be found editing/writing for The Teen Magazine, TeenInk, and her personal blog the Cyrus Piece (https://oliviacyrus.wordpress.com/). When she is not watching football, she is learning how to cook roti, procrastinating, and dreaming about learning how to play the jazz flute.