Amalie@kua

Life is made of firsts and lasts. 

Your first breath,

When your parents hold you close.

Your first steps, 

When you can wander around alone.

Your first words, 

A boy is quick with anger

With charm, he uses force

On anything that breathes

Anything that has a pulse

But this boy is amazing

He's kind and uses words

His poetic touch, how he thinks too much,

Little red leaves organize scattered on the ground in geometric patterns we fail to recognize

Except me, of course.

I love fall more that I love myself

"Don't murder the flow, the stream, the book, or the poet."

For anyone who's been thinking about Valentine's day, or not, I just wish so much that for once I could get someone to like me back. But then do I? It's fine to be single and I'm fine being single, but I hate being called single.

My fingers weave my hair into a braid

Twisting in the experiences I’ve faced:

The “girliness” insults

That say I’m not delicate enough,

The jokes about how I look,