My body


All of my love
I give to my cat
Because I do not have to fear
that he will leave me
if I’m being clingy
I can be vulnerable
without fear that he’ll judge me
I joke that
I don’t need a boyfriend
because he greets me
when I get home
because when I sleep
he is in my arms
I am not alone

My walls have backups
that spring into place
I wonder
how much of my shit
you will take
before you leave like the ones
in your wake

I always joke that I want to be with girls
if I want my heart to break
and guys
if I want to be bored
I am the girl who pored
over romance novels
and listened to love songs
A fling without feelings
is not where my heart belongs

I withdraw into myself
because of all the times
I’ve been wronged
I’ve said yes to sex
when I should have said no
I couldn’t answer if it
was for him or for me
What I know is that you felt the need
to remind me that I’m pretty
when you admired the curves
of my body

I would say that being kind
wins more points with me
But I am hesitant to trust
the kindness
Coming from your lips
that I stifle with a kiss
Beauty is a tragedy
and I don’t know if I am wanted for me
or the way that I look
Please don’t praise what you see
because I know the words
like a well-worn book
The last time a man whispered
sweet nothings in my ear
I cried
because creativity took a nose dive

If I pierce my face
will it make me less pretty
will the men that I attract
be less shitty

My apartment is a cave
in which I hide
My body is a cage
and I’m trapped inside
My larynx is the gatekeeper
that holds the key
My voice is beginning to be set free
with it I demand respect
Because as a woman
I know I haven’t gotten it yet.


The womb

There’s a place I like to sleep
with curtains drawn tight
Glowing in the magenta light
Covers tucked under my chin,
the mattress cushioning my side.

Some say the way we sleep
mimics the womb.

When going through change
I get antisocial,
Shutting out most
talking to a select few
While I burrow,
and make a nest.

I’ve been changing
taking information and processing it
Ready to work through
the events that make me, me.

The big topics are
the hardest to start writing about
and have the most impact.
I’m working to express myself
instead of withdraw.

But even butterflies
go through a period of change
Before they come out on the other side.

glass walls

Think of the girls living inside of glass walls,
Who have no privacy,
Who are watched from the halls
Some may live there for many years,
Their mirror images, their only fears

Come on girls, now take my hands
Let’s spin in circles
And dance in the sand
Why have we let things get so far?
Trapped inside of the walls you are?
One day, may you all break free
And realize everyone has beauty

We see you,
The girl who stands in front of the mirror and says:
“I’m too fat”
Your ribs are bulging,
Your face is taunt,
What happened to those curves you used to flaunt?

Come on girls, now take my hands,
Let’s spin in circles,
And dance in the sand

There are people who care about you,
Who worry about the things you do,
Remove the tubes,
Replace the glass,
Don’t waste away, or you won’t last

So if I may,
Take the time to say,
“You’re beautiful,
inside and out.”

It’s corny and an oldie but the message is what matters. I had heard a story of someone I used to know who was sent to a rehab center for being anorexic and bulimic. I was heartbroken at the idea of girls (and guys) with eating disorders being sent to a place where they’re watched behind glass walls. I think it’s sad and interesting that even if a person is skinny or a normal weight for their body they will see themselves as fat or unfit. The mirror sees one thing but they don’t believe it because they’re seeing another.

I think a large part of it is because of how the media portrays what the ideal person should look: flawless, while the truth is: they have been photoshopped. It’s been said so many times but beauty is in the eye of the eye of the beholder, and there is no specific definition.

I really wish that I could do more for these people. I at least hope that my posts have an affect on my readers. Again, comments about people’s bodies even if they’re joking might hit home. You may not know what they’re going through and how deeply your comments affect them.

© Copyright-All rights reserved- Hannah Farmery

a secret you don’t have to keep

And for some people,
There’s hurt.
Like dark secrets that weigh down on you,
Many people you want to tell them to
I share in this world of secrets and pain
Yet I chose not to remain.
Don’t ever say, you don’t have a choice
For you have every choice to use your voice.

Like many, I’ve been dealt cruelties and secrets
Which I think about telling but have kept.
Yet I thrived during all of these years,
Though I’ve shed unwelcome tears.

And for some,
There’s hurt.
The many secrets that try to weigh you down.

-Hannah Farmery

Quiet towns

The train keeps moving
Past quiet towns
The silence disrupted by
the clanking of metal
and the blare of the horn

Little sailboats patiently wait
Geese sit in a row
A house peaks out between the trees
Graffitied box cars
Long abandoned castle ruins,
hollow with age.

Lily pads, an island of green
Water glistens
Trees stand tall
The sailboats and people in parks
come out to play

Big, fluffy clouds
suspended in the sky,
Old bridges and water towers
The mountains a continuous,
calming presence
Gentle green curves,
Occasionally a pale blue,
shade lighter than the sky.

I long to stop the train
To explore where trees grow tall
and deers run freely
I’d prove nymphs exist by becoming one
I wish to explore castle ruins,
Little cottages on the hill and
quiet towns
To board sailboats
and climb water towers
Visiting places I’ve never been.

But the rumble of the train
A constant motion beneath my feet
stays on its course
to deliver me home.

© Copyright-All rights reserved-Hannah Farmery

a confession

I said it. I love you.
An exhale of breath
I’ve been holding after a long inhale.
I can feel my ribs settling in place again,
now that you know.

I love you. I love you so much.

We stood in the dark,
A light shining overhead
Illuminating you.
I had cut you off
You were speaking passionately
about something
And I couldn’t hold it any longer
That release after a long breath

I had taken you by surprise,
You didn’t know I felt that way
It felt natural,
It felt right,
Like I had said it before
Which I had,
Years ago

When we were lovers
And together.
The years have gone by
And we’ve changed,
We used to fight all the time
And I’d be ready for it.

The dust has settled now
I feel a sense of calm when
I talk to you.
It’s only right that I’ve held on,
I’ve kept wanting you.

My eyelids flutter open,
I’m puzzled by the clarity
Of my dream
So sure of my thoughts
And desires,
The love for someone
I talk to every day
Since when I’m awake
I don’t know if I want you
Because you’re there
and I need someone to love
Or if I’ve never stopped loving you.

© Copyright-All rights reserved-Hannah Farmery

Can’t go there

I try to keep my distance
(to keep you at arm’s length)
but the line is blurry
because we flirt and back off
and I can’t go there again.

You still bite your lip the way
I do
I itch to feel mine on yours
But I can’t go there.
Your hands are the same to hold
I hold mine together (to not touch)

I don’t know how to react.
because you blindside me with your emotions
and seduce me with your words
roping me into your spiderweb
to play with me like a yo-yo
pulling me in and pushing me back again.

We broke up for a reason.
What’s the reason we keep
coming back?
My heart is beating
and I can’t breathe normally.
Or spell.

But you know me
And understand me
More than anyone has
You aren’t what I want
But I miss what we had
And you still want me.

I cant.
Go there.
But you know me.
But I don’t know you.
Because you’re different
But the same.
But. I can’t. go. there.

© Copyright-All rights reserved-Hannah Farmery

Bottled up scream

I wonder what sound
Would escape my lips
If I let it
Or if it would even
come out at all
In my dreams
When I need to the most

I felt it inside me
A shaken soda bottle
Released in hisses of air
Or singing at the top of my lungs
Because people are less likely
To call the cops on someone singing
Than shattering the silence
On these dark,
Empty streets

I don’t know how I keep going,
With this tumbling inside me
As I bite my tongue
And clench my jaw
Out of fear of
Speaking up for myself
Or saying something silly
Not wanting to offend

In stilted, stunted words
I write
Little toy soldiers
Tripping off my tongue
Not matching the passion
I feel inside

I keep a lot of things bottled up. I don’t often mention when something is bothering me, because I don’t want to hurt or offend another person. There are times where I snap, get angry, or can’t stop crying because I have kept things inside for so long. I’ve become very non-confrontational, and will back out of a situation if I can. Which includes things like letting my friends call me nicknames I hate for years until I’ve become a bit more assertive and am in a process of learning how to speak up.

I’ve spent a lot of time walking around feeling like I need to scream. To let loose all of those emotions and hear it reverberate against buildings and pierce through the quiet night. Walking through streets of peaceful houses I want to pull out my hair and scream until I can’t scream anymore.

Expect, in my dreams when I needed to I couldn’t. I have a lot of nightmares where bad guys are after me, and I have to protect myself and my family. In some of my dreams it’s just me and a man. While I’m in danger I open my mouth and nothing comes out.

One tipsy night in Boston a friend of mine and I roamed the streets. I had asked him if he ever felt like screaming, and found out that he thought it would be beneficial. We spent that night walking and yelling whenever we wanted to. While he was afraid to be his loudest I found out that I could wail so loudly that it would echo off buildings and still resound in our ears once it had faded. I remember standing in the Commons and screeching at the top of my lungs. People echoed us and the residents in the buildings over the park must have hated us. That night I found out that if I opened my mouth sound would come out.

For my last day of poetry class this past semester we were going to meet in the classroom, read our poetry, then walk to a bar/diner/restaurant. A handful of my classmates and I were late, and missed reading in class. I saw them going downstairs in an elevator then had to jog to catch up. I begged my teacher to let us stragglers read there so that we wouldn’t feel left out. The place was boisterous, so our teacher told us we had to project. The first person who read was kind of quiet, and we had to lean in to hear him.

When I got up and started reading the words “I wonder what sound would escape my lips if I let it” came out in a shout, surprising me and my classmates. I was not expecting to be that loud and actually had to be quieter. But there was my answer. I’ve learned over the years to be able to speak loudly when I have to.

This past year I have been beginning to start working on things in my life that I need to address. Writing helps me to break down my issues and become more aware of myself, and blogging has been a huge step in starting to find my voice.

Foggy mind

It’s been a while since I posted something.. Here’s a poem I wrote for my poetry class. 


Foggy mind:

My mind’s so tired
I can’t hear over the roaring in my head 
Too many thoughts compete for my attention
And I don’t know where to start
I heard you have to forget
In order to make room
There’s a backlog in my head

With retorts I should have said
Continued conversations to be had
I’m going to be late again
I don’t want to see this person
Can’t I just stay here?
I want to go home
What homework do I have?
I’m so tired I need a break
I’ve got to feed the birds
Should I check my email?
I do not want to wait in the cold again
I can’t wait to do this art project
Why do I still miss him?

My dreams feel so realistic I’d rather stay there
Flying on fairy wings
Having freedom to go
A green eyed stranger beckons to me
People with colorful mohawks
Walking amongst large seahorses
And rubber duckies
A princess closet
Being at home

A man prowls firelit halls
I can always see his face
He smiles but I wake alone
It’s hard to separate the two some days
No amount of sleep can help me recharge
I feel sluggish either way.

Fault lines (amethyst geode)

This is the story of the amethyst geode, which lived in a corner for most of my life. Until it got dropped one day and cracked on its fault lines. Since then pieces have been given to people who are really close to my family and I. Image


Fault lines (amethyst geode):

You were always whole.
(Or rather, part of a whole)
I wonder who had the other half.
Was it discovered complete?
Or with fractured parts,
Never to have a twin.

Years passed by,
With the sunlight glittering on facets,
Making rainbows on the wall
A constant presence,
You sat in the corner defying gravity
Never budging,
Requiring at least four strong men
To move you,
Bending their backs under your weight.

A careless drop along fault lines
Broken under pressure
Scattering points across the sidewalk
Landing on either side of the doorway.
Left there for protection
Mother grieved at its loss.

It was a birth
Of daughters and sons,
Made mobile through a shedding of weight
To travel all over the world
In careful hands and bundled in suitcases
To share with only those who really matter.