the secret diary of girls in the arms of wolves | Candria Slamin

in a depressed february haze, i read the diary of a dead girl that could be any girl, a girl who exists and doesn’t, a girl afraid of the dark woods outside her window, afraid of the fingers of trees that feel like the heat of men, a girl afraid but who wanders into them anyway, wanders there because it’s better to wander in on your own than to wait for the fingers to snatch and catch and tug until something breaks and what’s left behind cries over another diary.

her woods, made of douglas fir and the primalness of fire find me in my sleep. there, they look like the sharp trees of seattle in fall, still dark green against the cold sky, tall concrete condensed into a graveyard of needles, the puget sound so far away even when it’s right there at the other end of the harbor’s rope. the smell of fish and coffee in my nose, the feeling of a hand i should not be holding. these woods climb up into the haze of mount rainier, and there i can still feel the anxiety the great stone face gave me. i am already so lost here. 

these woods twist in my dreams, sprawl out into a maze, twist into darkness, twist the sound of heart-break’s tender voice, until it all looks like the woods outside my window. the woods of quiet apartments, beds tucked away in the corner, on the floor without a bedframe. the woods made of that scent wet flesh gives. the woods twist until they’re the woods that steal young girls away. woods that bury the bell-peal laughter under the weight of heavy, misplaced hands, under the weight of say yes because it’s going to happen regardless, under the weight of i cannot fight the death that will find me in february.

in my sleep, i never find my way out of these shared woods. these fictional and non-fictional woods. these desperate woods. i wander in them until finally i see the wicked smile, and i cannot place whose it is: hers or mine.

Candria Slamin (she/her) is a recent college graduate from Virginia, who is trying to find her place within the writing world. Being a black and gay woman, Candria has taken to poetry and nonfiction to explore the social intersections of her life. In her spare time, she is busy being a nerd on the Internet. Find her on Twitter at @candyslam_