Poetry

"listen close,"

you spoke as we lay sprawled out on the grass.

the festival's lights were bright.

the first firework of the night shot up.

"what comes first,"

"the boom or the light?"

Will Byers fell in love with his best friend Mike Wheeler.

Mike Wheeler was not in love with him back.

Mike Wheeler fell in love with a new girl with psionic abilities

Whose name was the number Eleven

blow out your candles. 

make a wish.

hold up a protest sign.

tonight the fireworks spell R E S I S T.

your hair's in pigtails braided red blue and white.

It's the fourth of July 

which usually means fun and excitement and cool parades to avoid when driving around 

but this year, 

this year is not a fun fourth of July 

This year I didn’t lay out an outfit for the fourth,

This year I wore all blue

I didn’t want to represent the other side,

Not today.

This year we didn’t go to the parade 

i think of you every night 
as the calmness of the dark 
washes over me 
comforting me 
as i pray that i'll see you again 

With hair dripping,

Splashed with the stars

Not yet visible to our eyes,

We jumped,

Dived,

Splashed into the pathway

Of sunlight

they're scared. 

that's it. 

they: shout misspelled arguments in all caps send soldiers to peaceful 

protests yell into microphones turned all the way up shut down dissent 

Each problem, each issue, each time 

I hope you change, I take the blame 

Pretending I’m okay, I’m fine 

But in the end, you stay the same 

O little blackbird,

Why do you hide in the dark?

Are you waiting for something?

Waiting for a spark?

O little blackbird,

He likes the solidity

Of having protection,

His big friendly guardian

Always beside him.

She liked the companionship,

How he always had a quip.

They talked about everything under the sun

Noise

Every night

In my head

Noise

Every day

Swirling

Twirling

Dipping and diving

New lows and new highs

Noise

Everywhere

All the time

When their nagging talking ugh