You Between the Lines

by Katie Naymon

In a poem, I can be whoever I want to be, even if it’s just for six stanzas.

It feels like most writers are very, very annoying—particularly the population of straight, white literary men. The kind that everyone hates but craves approval from anyway.

You can take the girl out of high school, but you can’t take the fractured remnants of an obsessive crush out of the girl.

Bridget is right. I constantly accommodate, but then I secretly resent other people for not being as accommodating.

While everyone else asks for a performance, some heightened version of what I’m offering, Will just asks me to be more myself.

recommend getting used to being more vulnerable. It’ll feel uncomfortable at first, exposing yourself, but it gets easier over time and there’s really no downside. Only good things come out of being yourself and asking for what you need.”

hate him, and still I feel my body enter its problem-solving mode when it comes to solving this particular equation: How do I keep someone who is making me uncomfortable comfortable? How do I mediate? The people-pleaser in me wants to curl into a ball of nothingness. Docile, calm.

“I’m exhausted by this, by myself. I feel like I have no choice but to give in.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Leigh, I can hardly remember a time I wasn’t in love with you.”

You have always been the brightest thing in the room and I have never not wanted to be in your spotlight.”