star

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

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, 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

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

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. 

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