two faced
amanda macchiarola
what does it mean to be two faced?
this collection of poetry is going to focus on the topic of the duality of man. an idea that proves to be prominent in society seeing as there are more to a person than the eye can see. there are multiple sides to every person, every belief, every feeling, every thing. “two faced� touches on the duality of man by showing the infinite sides to every little thing we know.
table of contents
page i. girl flesh//god flesh page ii. hi, my name ispage iii. when today comes page iv. girl//gun page v. new world religion page vi. dream girl//obscene girl page vii. force of nature page viii. new ways page viv. holy places dedications
to everyone who has crossed my path. whether it was a positive, negative, or fluid relationship, who i am, and the stories i create, came from that.
girl flesh//god flesh
how ironic and sweet it is that she has the words of an angel but the lips of a sinner. how someone so innocent, is so mischievous in her own right. she is a new era, unapologetic and unholy, smirking one second, smiling with her legs crossed the next. she brings me to my knees, with cold, trembling hands, praying to something divine and righteous. i can only hope you'll take my hands, and cover them in your warmth, laced up like a ribbon. i think i could love you, i think i could praise you. i could keep counting your freckles
and pressing your skin to mine long after the sun sets, and long after the demons return to their homes. that smile of yours is enough to make even the most unholy, a faithful saint once more, and to make a priestess a follower of the sinners.
greetings
my name is smart girl, short girl, gay girl, quiet girl, anything but my real name. only vague adjectives written in permanent marker on name badges. stuck on my chest, unable to peel back. my name is whatever you want it to be. it seems you know me better than i do, cramming ideas down my throat to sit in the pits of my soul like a rock. my name is not mine to choose. it burns like a flame, only to be put out. my name is powerful, my name is strong, my name is not mine to choose, but it is mine to embody.
when today comes
i've always had a thing for sunrises. the captivating moment when a new day begins, a fresh start, a blank canvas to make something beautiful. when the dark clouds and stars are outdone by the sun, rising over the barrier, creating the vibrant pink sky i crave every morning. i've always had a thing for sunsets. the reflective period when the day fades into the background, a farewell, a lesson on goodbyes. when the orange sky morphs into a dark creature looking over us, looming over us. and the moon comes out to play. the eye in the sky
that watches our every move. to favor one is a sin. one simply cannot choose one over the other. to begin and end a day the same, bright, illuminating, spectacular. we have no room to judge the paintings god creates from dusk until dawn.
girl//gun
her tongue is a trigger what spills are bullets, divine, deadly, everything you wish you were. words that rip flesh, words soaked in blood, crumbling in your veins. an insolent killer, always on edge. feelings that fuel fires, gasoline leaks from her mouth, rags pushed down, down, down, only to burn in her throat. she says "what kills will be killed" she looks at me with her electric eyes
and tells me "what kills will be killed"
new world religion
who is it we pray for? clasping our hands together, bowing our heads to our lord and savior, but who is she? who is it we pray for? she is an angel with hands and lips of a sinner; the antichrist with a glowing halo. who is it we pray for? she stands tall amongst demons, preaching to the choir, but she is tempted. no longer is purity the same as it was the day before. there is something holy and soul-cleansing about the arching of her back and heavy breaths escaping her lungs. i have had a revelation, i'm an evangelist
and i will praise her until my warm hands go cold, trembling in the night, waiting. waiting for her.
dream girl//obscene girl
my hair may flow like a river, tumbling, cascading down my cheeks like a picture frame. my eyes are electric and captivating. she has told me many times. while my words are sweet, my serrated ribs and even sharper tongue hide behind my soft, velvet skin. my love is as strong as a god, or blood from a nose, it may be keen and have meaning behind every word, but tables will turn and my honeysuckle lips are what makes only a dream girl. funny how dreams aren't a reality. i'm not your dream girl, you will find me in your nightmares.
i may be able to truthfully say "i love you", but curses slip from my poisonous mouth just as easily.
force of nature
her laugh sounds like god. nothing she does is small, for she only moves with power.
her laughter is soft yet it can move mountains.
she is the wind that can destroy a city without warning.
new ways
i think of the ways i could love you more reverently, more solemnly.
shall i cloak you in gold? anointing you, claiming you as the savior in a secular age.
shall i drape your bare skin, in rosary beads so they become the only thing keeping us from being skin to skin.
(i come running to you as if you’re a steeple)
your thighs, the stairwell, the crux of your collarbones, the holy kingdom.
holy places
you won’t find me reading a bible under my bedsheets.
instead, you will find her delicate fingers tracing circles on my bare skin, grasping it, kissing it.
she, unlike the rest, knows how to pray,
how to sanctify, how to worship the temple before entering it.
about the author
amanda is a queer writer from tampa who fits the exact mold of an ENFJgemini-ravenclaw. you can either find her in the pool (seeing as she might as well be part mermaid) or curled up under 15 blankets reading or writing (probably involving something gay).
credit
all art done by Boris Schmitz