Two Poems
by Arushi Rege
everything is more beautiful because we are doomed
everything is more beautiful because
we are doomed. because
underneath the fluorescent street lights we
both know the world is ending we
both see the signs because
the sun looks dark and
the sky is gray, but not
the gray that happens when
the beaches you liked,
the ones in california, monterey bay, are
stormy and the clouds look
as though they’ve taken pride
in covering the sky except
you hold me now, under
this streetlight, and tell me
that you love me in the same way as
a the neighborhood song sounds and
i’ve never had the courage to tell you that
you are pretty boy, or cherry-flavored, or
most importantly, you are
reflections, because every time i
look anywhere, or think of anything you
are there somehow but here,
under these streetlights, i
can pretend that the world isn’t
ending the way it is because
you are holding me close and
kissing me straight on the lips, and
sometimes i worry that i’ll forget this, but
babe, if we’re doomed here, i
just wanted you to know that
you have never looked more beautiful to me,
because you are pretty boy and cherry-flavored
and most importantly, reflections, but
darling, here under this streetlight, i
don’t think i’ve ever seen you look more
beautiful, because i don’t know if i’ll
see you tomorrow, but i want to
immortalize you in my mind, so that
i know that you’re still here and i’ll still love you
because you look beautiful tonight, and
i know its weird that i think you’re beautiful
not when we’re being romantic,
but when we’re being frantic because we’re
going to die but everything, my love,
is more beautiful because we are doomed and
you’ve never been more beautiful as
you are now.
in which my deepest fear is to fail
you, as the seasons change / if you stop affecting others / do you cease to exist? / he once asked me what i would do / if i lived forever / i told him i would / try to die / after all, what else is there left to do / breathe in / breathe out / try to live again / fail / pick up / “im sorry, the number you have dialed can’t come to the phone right now. please leave a message” / take another dose / try not to get high / fail / try not to cry / fail / try not to die / fail / repeat steps one to four / all’s fair in love and war / maybe this is just war / ripping my heart open for the greater good / when he tells me that my hatred is underestimated / hidden behind pretty smiles / pretty body / pretty words / my hatred is a disease / i ask him / what do i do when my hatred is gone / where do i leave my hands?
Arushi (Aera) Rege is a queer, Indian-American poet who simultaneously attends junior year in high school. In their free time, they compete in speech and debate, stress over college, and attempt to be a normal teenager. They tweet occasionally @academic_core and face the perils of instagram @aeranem_26.