Acer Sacharrum

At school we draw in the margins of our notebook paper

and toy with the idea of moving to Australia. 

We look up the latest news in between classes, knowing that

the teachers will think we're addicted to our phones.

Revenge is bittersweet 

A cozy sword in my heart

I'm over that disaster

Yet we're not apart 

A creature in the corner 

Encroaching in my space 

this is not a poem. 

this is not a song.

this is not metaphor, a sonnet, an ode, not a ballad, a rant, not even a dream–

this is a plea. 

I want to drink apple cider with you 

Like it’s a fine wine, 

Make-believe adult, wrapped in your wool blanket, 

Counting the minutes until your parents return. 

I never thought about you in the daytime 

When the sun spread like melted butter over the dwindling 

Blueberry bushes. 

I’d scavenge with them 

I love the you that you are when you are alone, 

The you that you are when you’re at home, 

When you look with soft eyes at the cat, 

The you that you are when you step onto the doormat.