Posts
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Turnip Head
*note: all my grammar choices (ex. capitalizations in the middle of a sentence) are purposeful and serve a purpose to help me deliver the full meaning and intended feeling of this poem!
I met Turnip Head! -
Responding
I'll write you all responses on paper
but struggle for the courage
to send them because
To be like you is all I want –
smelling of ashes and pine wood. -
Your Poetry
I read your poems. No, I
devour your poems. They are
beautiful.
Each one leaves me with such want,
pure longing. How does one live
a life like that? How does one see
the world like that? You are a -
Shea Butter
In autumn, I
started to use the bar of
shea butter
imprinted with wildflowers
that you made so patiently for me.
I never allow myself -
Floss
I ran out of floss and I suppose
that makes things easier for now but
I know this will come back to get me,
undeniably at the worst time.
I am hungry but
I have no appetite. I -
This is How I Feel
Isn't it obvious that I can't keep my eyes off of you?
Or stop thinking about you? I'm up
late with the tired sound of your voice. It's
ringing through my ears. Something new.
Loves
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glass hearts
it's dark.
you wouldn’t know that if you looked at me,
of course
you wouldn’t even know i’m there
transparent, lucid,
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Three Hearts
Octopuses have three hearts. I’ve been told that I do too. Is it the way I look at you or the way I listen? Is it how I place my hand on your shoulder or how I smile?
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"Twins"
Inseparable.
There was this girl; she and I had been friends since diapers. Teachers would ask where the other was when one wasn’t there. We were often mistaken for twins, our family sharing such a close bond.
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Waiting in the Hall of Memories
Every Halloween, one house on your street stays dark; no lights, no candy, no decorations. The neighborhood kids whisper about it, daring each other to knock, but no one ever does.
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camouflage
i hear
your words, your insults, your mocking
i heard it when you called me stupid, special
as if i had no ears
i see
how you look at me, how you judge me
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Monet's "Woman with a Parasol - Madame Monet and Her Son"
The swirling, hazy perspective on a long summer's day. The feeling as if time has halted. Expansive blue sky dotted with lazy clouds, watched from patches of warm, tickling grass. The swish of clothing, movement.