Posts
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Life Plans, In The Style of Fredrik Backman
Rori Acher is eighteen years old and dying. Any licensed medical professional would pronounce her perfectly healthy. But there are many ways to be dying that are not physical.
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Chicago Audition
I used to walk into a theater and it was salvation.
Stage lights and people who filled up a room,
I was happy to watch them for hours.
I wanted to become some part of that
some part of the instant admiration
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Faith
They told you to believe.
So you did. With all your heart.
And that heart betrayed you,
again and again,
so you beat it bloody
until it cowered
and you ran from it.
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Spring Rain
I don't believe in leaves in March
but here I am, showered full to bursting in May's nakedness
I didn't believe, but I knew the truth, they would come.
I rage,
I weep,
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Humanity
It was a dark thing that lived in their chests
It was a heavy thing that kept them tied to the ground
Unaware of the power their wings held
And yet so very alert to the fact
That wings they did have
Feathers and muscles and tendons -
Deep COVID
I used to get so angry at the broken pieces of the world.
I used to cry when they cut me
or if I saw them cut anyone else.
Now I turn to mist —
spread out, light, floating.
You can't hurt mist.
Loves
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Party of One
I can talk to myself forever
when there's no one else around and it's just me in my head
we have fun
I can do any topic you want, come on
pick a card
pick a card
pick a face
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Never again
I hate that all that's left
of your memory
is a couple of Polaroids
A couple of photos I snapped because I didn't know what else to take photos of
I hate that.
Nothing could ever capture your spirit
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May 4th
It was kindergarten
specifically May 4th, 2018, to be exact
we had just moved into our new house
I had been at the after-school program that day
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Love
Love will not heal me.
I will always be a girl of many scars.
But love can teach me to forgive.
Love can give me many reasons for why I should live.
It can even change me, for better or for worse.
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The more I think
I walk.
I walk in my head.
In my brain,
My thoughts,
My feelings.
I look over
At your hand.
Hmm.
The more I think about it,
The more tingly I get.
Tingly?
Fuzzy?
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A pawprint in clay
All I have,
For everything.
A pawprint
In clay.
That's it.
Thousands of trinkets, toys, stuffies.
Folder upon folder of random junk.
Papers and pencils and packs of gum