audreySL

The pressure on your chest weakens as the craft gradually decelerates to a halt, and you find all the mass has been pulled out of you, leaving only your volume.

Tears are cakey. They're extreme. Maybe that's why nobody wants to see them. It feels like you're seeing somebody nude. Can I tell you what I love? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

vermont is a half-finished poem with all the lines scratched out. 

grandfathers who’ve lived here their whole lives still talk of leaving, 

One day, I want to be as strong as my shadow;

waking up, running,

falling asleep, dreaming.

Made from muscled arms and soft angles.