sorry about the drunk texts but I By Lydia Wang

sorry about the drunk texts but I

remember the first time you asked me out for coffee and i
pretended i did not get your message because i was too busy
coughing up ghosts and swallowing needles. i wear red lipstick
and walk down eighth street with music inside me so loud it
burns. i once wrote a poem about how everybody wants to visit
the haunted house but no one wants to live there, nobody wants
to kiss the girl who tastes like halloween.

used other people as mouthwash because yours
was the last mouth i touched and yeah you are rain
but you are the most beautiful kind of rain i think
and maybe it is because i am a mess with red lips but
i would rather have a thunderstorm than fluorescent light
and it is too bad you are emotionally unavailable
because the medicine doesn’t taste nearly as good
as the disease.

hate how boring other people are talking
about engineering school and their favorite
kind of cheap beer and someone slides his
hand under my dress, “we should go to the
coatroom,” tells me i’m pretty even with
the lights on and the haunted thing inside of me
chokes on the word no and god i do not want him
but girls like me are unlit cigarettes and
a light is a light and
he is here and you never are.

By Lydia Wang


Lydia Wang is a writer, feminist, and caffeine enthusiast. Originally from Boston, she now lives in New York, where she studies creative writing and topics in social and cultural analysis at NYU. In her free time, she likes to spend too much money at the bookstore, rant about feminism, and fall in love with strangers on public transportation. Visit her online at

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