Zemira

I'm not a native Spanish speaker, nor am I fluent (I'm learning it in school), so this may be pretty rough.

Benedict, the bound jester,

Laughing in a world of chains,

Painted smiles, velvet nightmares,

Dancing just to hide the pain.

Bells are ringing, crowds are cheering,

But he hears a different sound,

It’s not the slashes through the timeline, 

Not the practiced cursive

Spelling out names

That we must all know.

It’s the blank in between

Beautiful pink flowers and brown muddy waters

Green bushes and bristles, pushing out from the bank into the sun 

Weeds sprouting out, growing and growing 

You sit in the middle of your college cafeteria—top floor—and things become very apparent to you, very quickly.

whatever shoes i was given back then i could not possibly let go of.

it was unfathomable. it was an outrage

that the light-up ones, the purple sandals,

even the astronaut rainboots had to go. i wanted them,