LET ME OUT: A Collection of Confessions
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About this ebook
Megan's LET ME OUT is a powerful collection that takes you on a journey through the experience of raising oneself. Through these pieces, Johnson fearlessly confronts substance abuse, generational traumas, and the reckless disregard for young children. With both honest and gut-wrenching poems, Johnson te
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Book preview
LET ME OUT - Megan Johnson
LET ME OUT
A COLLECTION OF CONFESSIONS
BY
MEGAN JOHNSON
LET ME OUT contains sensitive content that may be distressing to some readers. Topics discussed include addiction, abuse, and suicide. The book explores these themes in a raw and emotional manner, which could evoke strong reactions and resurface painful memories for some individuals. Reader discretion is advised. If you find yourself struggling while reading this material, please prioritize your mental well-being and consider seeking support from a mental health professional or a trusted person in your life. It’s okay to take breaks and prioritize self-care when reading.
I’ll be here to catch you.
With love,
Megan
For all the girls –
who never thought their pain mattered
For B –
Thank you for never letting me be anyone else but myself
For my sisters –
The next generation will never know a world like this
Contents
I. Behind Closed Doors
welcome
truth
homeland
petunia
sit up straight
daylily
remnants
parentification
strawberry blossum
double digits
dead man walking
3:00 AM
caretaking my soul
manic little girl
rockstar rich
poker night
letters never sent I
supermarket flowers
suburban secrets
deadbeat
listen up girls
cold case
conditional jesus
letters never sent II
skeleton
woody
letters never sent III
survival protocol
fools
disposable
voicemail
thomas
boomerang
academia
I was told
people pleaser
covered in everything
all-american girl
horror
3:13 AM
letters never sent IV
insidious attention
little one
boston boy
september
stay a little longer
II. Pretending is a Grueling Sport
king street
metal chains
letters never sent V
beach weekend
clones
criminal
broken bird
hypocrite
3:15 AM
bloodshot eyes
lilith
letters never sent VI
cape cod
wake the fuck up dad
morning after
june in new england
logan
kerosene
senses
hourglass
unsatisfied
letters never sent VII
seduction
benders
emotional bleeding
blood on my hands
take you down
the ravenel
letters never sent VIII
who
delicate hands
doe-eyed
letters never sent IX
just for tonight
savior complex
bargaining
dusty concrete
evangeline
plum blossum
judas
nursery rhyme
letters never sent X
lose my mind
brainwash
disorganized
claustrophobic
rhododendron
I am just like him
what is wrong with you?
brian
missed calls
rotting out my teeth
bedside begging
periwinkle
letters never sent XI
pour out
fire away
21 summer
the choices we make
3:23 AM
chosen family
III. We Could Not Predict This
the escape
carnations
naked
hubris
shane
iris
gone mad
turn the faucet on
pediatrician
collection of confessions
harbor
freedom
sleepless in seattle
community pool
reasons
sobriety
who is this person
humarock
paper rings
just love me the way I am
forget-me-not
boat man
walking away
message in a bottle
snakeroot
calendulas
letters never sent XII
white lilies
I would rather
orchid
longing
3:33 AM
they know (a folk song)
chamomile
charleston
lessons unlearned
old school
influencer
secrets bond
just because
eternal
pitt street
twisted broken girl
dormant crocodile
fairytale fingertips
daphne
chaste tree
collapse
boston
red roses
written on a rock in new england
time to go
jekyll and hyde
advice
safe love
homesick
cassette tapes
poetry
margaret michelle
afterlife
marigold
letters never sent XIII
morning love poem
3:43 AM
lily of the valley
another saturday morning
sweetpea
hydrangeas
3:59 AM
encore
Acknowledgements
About The Author
I
Behind Closed Doors
I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.
—Robin Williams
welcome
And even still I tell myself, it wasn’t that bad
This is my story
Welcome
truth
When you see my bleeding heart
My defeated soul
Splashed onto these pages
You will think to yourself
How could she do this to me
homeland
Inspired by the poet Savon Bartley
I’m from green grass and red faces
From salty air and Celtic crosses
I’m from liquor stores and Dunkin’ Donuts
Greasy diners, grocery stores, and Sunday church
Sticky sap dripping off trees like honey
From caterpillars crawling on fingertips
Scraped knees, inchworms, and window exits
And I’m going to be dead if my mom finds out
Where everyone knows my name, my story, my family
I’m from separated fathers roaming hotel corridors
Cover my shoulders in summer like it’s winter
From hot shot, packie, and You look just like your muthah
Several children, twenty Irish-Catholic cousins
I’m from brutal divorces after drawn-out affairs
Nannies and babysitters that raised me
From alcoholic fathers and working mothers
Fall cleanups and gardens
And white fences insulated with secrets
I’m from Dad’s out drinking again, ignore him
And middle-school dances
From sunscreen and mosquito bites
From SUVs and keeping up with the Joneses
I’m from joints rolled in leaves and smoked in apples
Teenage rebellion and missed curfews
From snow days and I’ll do it if you do
I’m the crackling fire on the first day of fall
The excitement of a snow day
And window-cleaning in spring
I’m from sleepovers, but only if I clean my room first
Country songs and high-school sweethearts
Townies and yuppies
From car crashes and motorcycle accidents
Two heart attacks and countless relapses
The game of manhunt and hide ‘n’ seek
Quick, kiss me! in the stairwell before Mrs. Reid sees
I’m from academics and large paychecks
I am the town that raised me
The Why would you ever leave?
and When are you coming back?
petunia
The bagged bottle of a bearded man
Martini glass of a lonely housewife
An angry boyfriend beside bottles of apologies
We think we know what it looks like
There are always signs of those like us
But no one searches for what they aren’t looking for
A young addict disappears
One-half adult, one-half child,
Silent ghost haunting hallways
Their existence being an obvious
Foreshadow of what is yet to come
sit up straight
You can be the best sheep in the flock
The gold-star student
Button-up sweater, good posture
No original bone in your body
Seeking validation from every teacher, boss, boyfriend
Striving for someone else’s acceptance
You can follow the rules your entire life
Down to the details
But at the end of the day, you’re still just a follower
In a sea of sheep that look just like you
If they were walking off a cliff
You would too
daylily
My keyboard sounds like rain
I feel his presence alongside my hands
He holds my wrists so tightly his knuckles turn red
My breathing slows like a train screeching to a stop
But like a dim coal fire, my heart keeps burning
I keep typing, turning keys into thunderstorms
If I keep writing, he’ll let go, he’ll have to
Holding on to me is dangling from an overpass I can make bad people go away
Just as fast as I push away the good ones
My tears well up like tiny puddles
I grit my teeth and squeak, Leave me alone
Then she appears like a rising sun
Leans into the curve of my neck
And whispers
Burn the whole thing down
remnants
I kneel to peer into a deserted world
In a baby-blue dress turned white
Not a white made for a bride
But a white from centuries ago
Like I’d been wearing it for decades
But I am only five
This once cinderella dress
Smells like burnt cigarettes
Blood smeared along the edges
I don’t think it’s my blood, or that I’m bleeding
I don’t know how it happened or when
It just happened
My pink-and-purple dollhouse
Caught fire last night
I was late to a solvable crime
My dolls’ faces wiped clean
Blank, empty
Remnants of make-believe personalities on the floor
I remind myself that some children never get a dollhouse
And big kids don’t cry
So I make do with my new world
I accept things the way they are
And that I should be grateful
parentification
I toss and turn in my little bed
He