M. Hank

One day before the test, and my nerves start to fizzle.

I need to study all I can to make up for the days that I was never in class and never learned anything; Make up for my stupidity and procrastination.

Half a dozen pink hearts 

Strewn across glowing white screen 

Girls guessing at identities 

Of secret beaus 

A link to Spotify 

Grandma used to make lemonade.

I won’t even attempt to write a poem about music- poems aren’t me. I’ve never been good at writing them. But a block of text doesn’t look as pretty. It really just looks like a rant. And I guess, that’s what it is.

Under the green jungle crown 

you silently go, 

Shimmers of light pattering 

down onto your soft, worn skin. 

She used to listen to the snow and think about how beautiful the world was, how magical.

How perfect, pristine, like a flower curled in a tiny fist.