Posts
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Postcard to Nowhere
Darling, -
i can't look away
i can't look away, it's impossible
there are mirrors all around, covering the walls, the floor, the ceiling
and if i try to turn away, i see you again
standing there in your clandestine beauty, -
They Tell Us
These are the best years of your lives, they tell us,
so stop pretending you're truly suffering.
Chin up, they tell us,
mask your grimace with your widest smile
because everthing is fine.
Stop complaining, they tell us, -
YOU
I watched you talk to her
waiting for the bus, analyzing your face
your freckles, dimples, perfect smile,
you.
I've been obsessed for a month now,
my heart launching into overdrive when I see you walk by. -
once it was may...now it is not
Once it was May,
and flowers bloomed in sidewalk cracks,
robins flitted through the not-quite-summer air and
I lay in bed with the windows open and wrote poems as light as butterfly wings.
I thought I had everything figured out. -
I'm sorry, I have a question:
When did it start?
Girls being told they were less than boys, that they'd never be anything but wives and mothers,
that was their role in society, no questions asked
Loves
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Lilac
I bring my nose close to
the Lilac
as I smell it's like I'm smelling a universe of
peaceful trickling streams,
birds softly singing,
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In that Field
It never happened
that everything was beautiful and nothing hurt
but if it did it would have been
lying in the grass
the kind that surrounds you like the ocean
and flows like a river
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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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velvet ease
Kiss where ink and flesh align,
carved to summon touch.
Skip the space between my lips,
spewing oaths of love.
You feed me want— then starve me dry.
A feast of glances,
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when the wind remembers
I am from mythic hues of orange and blues,
Where the setting sun greets the gentle waves.
From solemn mornings and soft bed sheets,
To boisterous cackles and tire swings,
I am from the jostling of jewelry—
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Time's Up, Folks!
I fear death
The way I fear the end of a song
Like I fear my favorite part being gone in an instant
A moment I can never get back
A note I experience only for a blip