Posts
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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 -
temporary goodbye
Sometimes I still scroll through our text messages
nearly two years old now, no one's added a thing since May 2021
and of course no one will, because everything we wrote in there was
Loves
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Boxes of Those Photos
We used to be seven
My curls used to be sunshineColored
You used to be stubborn
Naive stubborn.
The powder used to hit our kneesOn the days
When we could eat lunch in four bites
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Fall and trees and wondering about love
It’s:
twisted
crinkled like
the leaves
they’re frail now,
on the edge
of not there.
scrolling photos
feverishly
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observation iii
We run back to your house,
The lights are still on,
And they cover your freckled face,
Like it's the sun.
The grass brushes our feet,
And the wind catches in your hair,
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observation ii
We sit out on the sand,
The fog covers the sky,
And blankets the world,
Like a shield.
The waves nip at our feet,
The water's cold
But I'm warm because you hold my hand,
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observation i
We stand on the dock,
The sun has set,
But I can see your happiness
Even in the dead of night.
The streetlight's on,
The metal is all rusted
And covered in salt,
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those poets and their sunrises
(ywp is like the sunrise)
washed in watercolor above the sleeping world
enchantingly illuminatory
& strawberry melting into orange creamsicle. if you pay
close attention, it never really ends