Zemira

She carried around a lip gloss with her, reminiscent of jam and the fruits I used to eat in my youth. It appears darker in the bottle than on her lips, yet she says it is perfect the way it is.

I think there is a glitch in my processing unit; 

when the letter 'A' enters the system, 

it doesn't just register as a character—

it spills out as a deep magenta that dyes the rest of the word.

Grass grows. 

It gets trampled into the dirt 

until it is dirt. 

It disintegrates and decomposes and falls 

apart, 

into the soil. 

My science teacher accused me

playfully and yet fiercely

of stealing an envelope

I had been threatening to peel the cover strip off of the sticky part

so it glues together

because it was just so tempting.

I hissed as the pressure around my ribs tightened.

Sometimes it feels like

there is a giant boulder

hanging above my head

which I constantly have to chip away at

to prevent it from crushing me

but, what if I rest too long

or can't chip fast enough