Siyona.S.stay

When I hear the words cross-country

I hear tired laughter

The kind when you know you didn’t get enough sleep.

Bus rides early in the morning, sliding under the seats,

i thought it was love because i got that funny feeling below my ribcage

each time i saw you i felt what the characters in my books felt

stomach flipping, heart beating too fast, head light

i found a binder full of photos from my preschool years,

lined paper covered in neat cursive

signed by my teachers, women who i remember the names of

and not much else. their voices were warm and the house

I like to think I smile more when autumn comes

I caught myself grinning out the window

Trees back home don’t look like that, so full

A tree skirt has a Christmas connotation

But the middle of October brings its own

I stare at the blank, grey wall.

A metaphor on the tip of my tongue

"Shoot, writer's block."

I sit in front of this screen, fingers resting on the keyboard.

Again and again, I think I've run out of words.

I remember back in those days

When kids were friends just because they wanted to be

Before trivial things designed social boundaries