Posts
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contemplating life on a gondola ride in autumnal vermont
fall isn't what you think it is.
fall isn't
pumpkin spice lattes and
smoky bonfires and
cinnamon candles and
your new maroon woolly cardigan that was on sale for
Thanksgiving or Halloween or whatever
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first kiss
we weren't even close to fairy tales. but
your hands clasped in mine felt like satiny silk
on a wedding dress made for
this warmth that pricks my heart full of
blood and oxygen that tastes of you
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time
every second I think
this is the oldest I have ever been
this is the youngest I will ever be again
this second is gone this one too
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tell me i can stay
tell me I cannot drink the air;
yet the smoke on the horizon curls like a finger,
inviting me to taste February in the wind
and know time is running out
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you have the right to remain silent
as the days turn to fire for retribution
and the nights turn to ice for revenge,
i watch the smoke curl over the mountains
grayish-pink sunsets smelling of apples and your grandfather's attic
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heaven
and here i thought we were all going to die someday;
incorrect;
our corpses (sacks of what used to be our livelihood, exhales of what used to be our lives) will
Loves
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The Girl with a Library Voice
The first time I heard her voice I saw a library. An enclosed little nook with a creaking wooden table, the color of the wood changing from honey amber to deep mahogany under the flickering candlelight.
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I, the minotaur
here I sit-
bathed in darkness
trapped beyond reach of the sunI do not touch the poor creatures they cast into my darkness
flesh does not satiate me
so I chew on my rage -
save the world
since you’re not dead yet but you should be
swear you’ll save the world
because you’ll be the first to know and the first
to ever do anything about it.
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Grow(n) Up
I don’t want to grow up
Because I don’t want to pay taxes
Because I want someone to take care of me
Because I’m a little bit scared.
I am grown up
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A Letter for Everyone on YWP – One Last Time
Dear YWP,
The first time I wrote you a letter I was 13.
The second, 15.
I'm 18 now; how time flies, my lovely people.
And this is the last letter.
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I just really hope she wins.
She's finally ahead in the presidential race. The way my hope lifted when I heard that news. And the disbelief on my face? How, after ten months? I was sure I was going to be screaming from my porch on election day, "Why, why?