it is raining right now but all me and my best friends can think about // is that tantalizing glimpse of // lemonade & too-hot days & all the rage & shorts & laughter // & late nights we can see on the slowly dipping horizon pink into yellow into blue into mountains we can see // from our houses but will soon whisper secrets to amidst the lightning bugs // on a soft july night in the middle of nowhere // that bend in the track, the rounding curve of the bike path we'll use soon // turning the handlebars into dewdrop forests once bare now majestically blocking out our views // into racing each other and the ice cream truck down the block, august a popsicle stain on the sidewalk // into sleepovers outside on a trampoline under the stars, trying hard to forget the deepening dark of the woods behind us // and someday we'll be grown up and too old for // this wonderful hot mess that is white capped lakes & cerulean skies & orange soda & & & // but it is raining right now and we'll have to stop thinking about summer.
remember when it was winter? (soon we will remember spring rains)
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perfect//imperfect
There’s a girl in my grade who cut herself last week.
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Home
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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