Writing

What happens in love,

Ends in death,

Despair,

Silence.

We are but bees,

In a captive hive,

You are the fire that warms me,

The desire for my shaking heart;

Your beauty and grace,  

So unimaginable yet,

As if it was a radiant glow,

I personally love

Mary Oliver's

Dog Songs

the way she captivates 

the little dog

in poems 

in books

and in heart

the way the poetry flows

last year,

I did a school debate 

of why 

trans athletes should be able to play in sports

I lost

and I cried

because my teacher

let us pick topics

YWP is the springtime crocuses you have been waiting for,

the flower in the snow

YWP is the golden hour

poetry flows 

Walking home alone.

She spots a man nearby.

He whistles, shouts a lewd comment.

She tries to ignore him at first.

He yells again.

She calls back, laughing nervously, "Maybe another time!"

He doesn't listen.