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Note to the reader: This essay is meant to accompany the essay that I wrote called Crying on Rocks which is on YWP. 

There was a vacant bathroom outside the church park. 
I crawl in beat, destitute, feeding off the radiant waves. 
I stare into a warped mirror punched by drunken twilight boys, 

The streets have teeth and we hold our fingers with enough space for the others and drink cider on a corner where the ceiling above us blinks blue-blue-blue onto her tonsil-pink dress and someday I hope I never have to see it in a suitca

I'm a brown-eyed girl 

loves adventures 

yet afraid of the unknown

I'm a romantic who hates real life

I'm a brown-eyed girl

who wishes more love songs

said brown-eyed instead of blue

Semester 1

I.

Sudoku from the New York Times 

Stays open on our computers.

One holds a tennis ball in her right hand as she talks,