Posts
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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The Bathroom Mirror
Give the lights a sickly yellow glow
Let me reflect
The scribbled-on stall doors and brightly-colored posters
Framing her face, to remind her
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