we stood on stage in black & white eyes tired but we sang til tomorrow anyways // they caught our eyes as it ended raised their hands to clap but i turned quick away convinced our performance wasn't worth more than // the quiet glint of confidence in her fidgeting hands // i could taste strawberries in the back of my throat artificial like the lights glaring at us to take our seats so i did // as a bouquet of lilacs tumbled down over us i caught it but you were the one to lift it to my nose & remark how sweetly dream-rushes disappear // and i laughed because what else is there to do when fingers intertwine like romeo & juliet poisoned vines // meanwhile your lips on my cheek were soft as summer nights, fireflies, neverending drink of watercolor lemonade.
middle school chorus concert
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submission for next year's challenges :D
Describe your home - outside or inside. What about it feels like your home, or not? What makes a home in your mind?
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that poet feeling
does anybody else get that feeling deep in their chest, sharp like it's begging to come out but also soft as in fire soft, embers in a hole in the ground?
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