maelyn

It’s not the slashes through the timeline, 

Not the practiced cursive

Spelling out names

That we must all know.

It’s the blank in between

Beautiful pink flowers and brown muddy waters

Green bushes and bristles, pushing out from the bank into the sun 

Weeds sprouting out, growing and growing 

(disclaimer: i am not a fluent or native Spanish speaker, obviously. i just enjoy it and am learning it in school so i thought i'd share a short poem i wrote in class.)

jueves

whatever shoes i was given back then i could not possibly let go of.

it was unfathomable. it was an outrage

that the light-up ones, the purple sandals,

even the astronaut rainboots had to go. i wanted them,

When you bite your jacket,

you taste the salt that has soaked in,

all the times you have worn it.

But there is no detaching-

you have sunken your teeth into a moment.