Poetry

"Why is your foot there"

"I have long legs"

Every exchange

Every feisty back-and-forth it's just

Me

Connecting the only way I know how

Simultaneously protecting myself

And bringing you in

Is this love?

This riding every high

And crashing burning like a sugar rush gone wrong

It's so weird

So elated

And then so depressed

I soak my pillow with tears and giggles

In 12 days it will be November 14th

I have no reason to care about November 14th

and I have every reason to write a poem about it.

Maybe by November 14th, I won't drive 70 miles an hour

past the gun shop on Route 2

Hold my hand and love

Me more then I ever could

And please don't let go

Let me tell you a story

Of a girl who loved stories

A girl who waited for

Her story to start

A girl who wished on dandelions

For true love

Who have I been

what kind of a friend am I

who do I really want to be

what do I want

why am I like this

who could I have been

where could I have gone

have known

thought

experienced

Dear Anonymous,

Last year, you rejected Charlie about 3 times,

All in band class, all times my fault.

The first time, Mel asks you to guess who likes you.

Pages hold the ink

of my pen, tears of my eyes,

power of my words.

I trudged behind you,

eyes locked with your back.

I'd gotten unpleasantly comfortable

letting you take the lead.

Sometimes I felt like an actor,

playing the part of your shadow.

Hate will swallow much in darkness; 

But hope 

will banish the darkness with light

fitting in is rent, and it's due every day

paid in the basic clothes you wear

and in the people of which you smile and compliment

but more importantly in the people you don't

The dirty gravel path crunches under the tires of our Toyota. Dust rises around the car, blurring the tall vibrant trees hugging the road.