Posts
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Boxes of Those Photos
We used to be seven
My curls used to be sunshineColored
You used to be stubborn
Naive stubborn.
The powder used to hit our kneesOn the days
When we could eat lunch in four bites
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Fall and trees and wondering about love
It’s:
twisted
crinkled like
the leaves
they’re frail now,
on the edge
of not there.
scrolling photos
feverishly
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On being brave
There are days when I fall asleep wondering about the line between stupid and brave.
BraveIs a hero rushing into battle
Ready to fight
For their passion
StupidIs a hero rushing into battle
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Trees Talk
The trees talk,
you know?
They talk and if you listened
you would know,
they whisper
like kindergarteners
who can't stand straight in lines
but they can jump straight
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YWP is…
Young Writers Project has helped me discover myself and learn more about what it means to be a person.
Loves
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She sat on a bench in the park
She sat on a bench in the park when I passed her and I said
Who are you waiting for and she said
He’ll come
He’ll come and I left and I came back and she was still there
He’ll come
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fermata
I sob for
something I think I
hate, but cry "no no no"
when asked if I
want to quit.
Because I just can't.
There is no
possible way
that I could quit.
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to tina and amy
Thank you,
tina fey and amy poehler
it makes me feel good
that you two
sat behind
the weekend update desk
telling jokes
proving that edgy,
political comedy
is not just
a
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The Ink of His Heart
This is from a longer project of mine, but I really liked how this stanza turned out, and I think it kind of works on its own.
I flip through the first
Couple of pages,
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Old friends
I'm tired of walking the same loop
Taking the same few steps forward
Just to walk the same steps back
I'm enamored with the way we were
Enamored with the things we swore
