Writing

The flowers died on Monday. 

They had always flourished before that.

Red, yellow, green, and blue. 

They were always full of life.

Like her.

“Hey, Emma, just wanted to make sure you made it home alright today. Also, you’re going to have to take a different highway to get to Mom and Dad’s house. There was a crash on 78 last night, probably because of the storm.

I’ve already fallen for them,

But they’re in love with the shy girl with the pretty hair.

This person I’ve fallen for,

They’ll never realize that I’m waiting by the door.

everything is hot and stuffy 
our glasses sweat, 
they create pools of condensed water 
the table sticks to my elbows from humidity 
its plastic is scratched from so many plates before

we kissed 
your lips red and full
mine chalky and dry

you stomped by everyone's sleeping heads 
when i pushed u off 
dripping ur red lips 
from your angry veins

stains no one would see 

living for our friends to laugh

as we walk down the halls

hand in hand

or see each other in passing

and smile knowingly

living to show up to school

in your hoodie

or for you to show up in mine