maelynslavik

Our world is filled with such

Delicate things, such

Beautiful little lights we

Find glittering in our eyes and

Try to tuck

For my friend, who

sent me a letter in the mail even though

we see each other every day, just

so she could gift me a card and

a lovely little poem;

For my other friend, who

I feel like I’m losing

Who I am;

I feel like she’s slipping away from me, one

Comment at a time, one

Heartless joke, one

Unmeant, 

My words don't come

in anything other

than my voice, and

my voice doesn't come

in size-12 Times New Roman;

It comes in butterfly wings and 

cluttered poems and ideas that

To be American is to

Listen to the rain fall and to

Let it wash over our faces, just

As all who came before us did

(not just the founding fathers did but

the children, the mothers, those

Top Gun soundtrack and

peanut butter m&m's and

writing poetry for my friends on

torn-out sheets of notebook paper, scrawling

the verses in pink ink that

reminds me of fairy wings and