Posts
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For old times' sake
I don't know you.
I knew your laugh and the way your eyes crinkled,
I knew that you loved chocolate and hated shrimp,
I knew everything about you,
But I don't know you.
Not anymore.
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"What's your favorite color?"
When I was younger I used to ask my mom what her favorite color was and she said she didn’t have one.
This confused me,
How could one go through life without a favorite color?
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A Letter to the Grownups
It's not all the grownups,
But it's too many.
Nothing is how it should be.
The world is heating.
The government collapsing.
Yet we,
We are only overreacting.
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Today
Today I've walked around school in a haze
I don't know what to do
How to feel
I don't understand
How he won again
I don't think I want to understand
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Halloween
I miss Halloween
Not because it changed
But I did
I miss going with my parents and my brother
And stuffing my face with candy
I miss meticulously planning out a costume
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The Season of Death
Death reaches his hands
Shrivels leaves
Rips them up
Soon the ghosts and ghouls will scream
They've waited all year for Halloween
But this death is not a scary thought
In fact it's comforting
Loves
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bittersweet end
Our end is bittersweet,
some look down in defeat,
while others raise their fists in victory.
Some of us may cry when we wave goodbye,
some may smile with a twinkle in their eye.
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Take a Moment
To you
you who lives among our rainbow hills--
green one moment
orange the next
and always blue in the distance--
you who lives along a river
you who lives looking into sunsets
you and you
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Playlist
A ton of songs -
Over fifty -
I love them all,
But fade so quickly.
My interest dies
By the tenth repetition,
And so I move on
To a cooler mission.
This beat, this soundtrack
On a loop.
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We Grew Trees from Our Bones
At dusk, the city climbs into trees. Streetlights fold into branches; apartments blink like nesting owls. Commuters dangle from vines in tailored suits, sipping moonlight through trembling leaves. You knock on my bark-body, and I let you in.
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Summer Lemonade
It's 9 o'clock on a Saturday- 9:00 AM, that is, when Mom made lemonade for the annual summer party at our house. Fresh-squeezed lemonade. It is sitting in a cooler on the small table in the tiny house in our backyard.
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Home Is The Place
It's been two years
Since I moved here
One year
Since I called it my home
Home is the place
With more dirt roads
Than paved
And the dirt roads
Carry the name
Of your friend's grandfather