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NH

15 years old

Posts

  • you already know summer

    you've felt

    the brambles and sweat, 

    the curl of berry-stained lips.

    you've seen

    the cornflower sky stolen

    by a red-orange river,

    the evening still thick

    with lightning bugs and laughter.

  • january 24th, 2010

    her voice sounded heavy to her, filled

    with the unnamed emotion

    everyone had told her to expect. except

    she hadn't. she'd rolled

    her eyes at the shiny pamphlets and blog posts

  • Dew-drop

    In a dew-drop, a little world exists 

    A place turned blue and silver by the light 

    That lingers well beyond the morning mist. 

    In a dew-drop, a little world exists 

  • Good Morning

    Good morning, sunlight like syrup

    Touching every dew-streaked blade

    Of grass and puddle of drying mud.

    Good morning, air that smells of spring,

    Air that sounds

  • for you

    if feelings are fluid then so is

    the way you run your hands through your hair halfway out of your braid

    your breath against my neck since you don't want others to hear

  • Longing

    It’s a ball of knotted string

    Stuck under my ribcage.

    Whenever I start to untangle it,

    I break a sweat & forget

    Why I even tried. 

Loves

  • Rain Running

    My watch did not enjoy my run in the rain.

    This morning before the other humans had stirred,

    I woke to the ringing of an alarm that was not my own,

    and saw the irresistible rain.

    Now my watch doesn't tell the date.

  • Take a Moment

    To you

    you who lives among our rainbow hills--

    green one moment

    orange the next

    and always blue in the distance--

    you who lives along a river

    you who lives looking into sunsets

    you and you

  • the ending

    I'm finishing the story,

    How can it be true?

    I'm nearing the end;

    There is no future to see.

    It doesn't feel real

    But it is—it's all going to be over. 

    Months it's been since this world's been right,

  • amnesia

    wrap your laced-up fingers around my throat like you don’t want to breathe,

    hold my pupils in your palms. do you want to smile?

    amnesia. the brain doesn’t like the watercolour poem of my skeletal frame,

  • Dinner With You

    I only ever came here for the fortune cookies 

    I don't know if you can tell 

    when I stare at the menu 

    under shiny plastic with a red rim 

    when I glance