Posts
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when i am asked what i am grateful for
i always feel pressured into
being grateful for the biggest things i can
which to me always sounds like i'm shouting for forgiveness
instead of gratitude. i never get to say i'm grateful
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8:46
there are all the things I could do with three minutes alone in my room
I have an essay to write and Hebrew to study
I have things to look up and notifications to check
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oh god how is november almost over
on november first we said
ohgodit'snovemberalreadywheredidallthetimego taking
up all the time in the world with our breath.
on november fifth we said
ohgodpleaseprotectushavemercyonoursins praying
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November 6th
This morning I woke up at six am. The country was bleeding pomegranate red and I, so sure we'd be drinking in a giddy paradise blue, stared blankly for minutes if not hours at the flashing computer screen.
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the definition of election day:
sitting in bed close to 7 am waiting for the election tracker to light up.
sitting in bed close to 8 am doomscrolling through election websites knowing it's all futile now.
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cold realizations at 7:46 am on election day
no matter what we pray,
no matter what we cry,
no matter what the news anchors deadpan
away,
no matter what the truth is,
no matter the color of the sky,
no matter the eleven years i've waited
Loves
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grin & bear it
i wonder how many times he’s said i love you.//
i wonder how many flowers he’s gifted//, how many
slow dances he’s danced, the ratio between//
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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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Eyes
the leaves are turning the color of your eyes again
as they fall to the ground i take care not to step on them
break their fragile spines, crack their delicate skin
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opening night thoughts
We both have short hair,
We could probably measure the inches,
Down to the centimeters, and the millimeters,
And it'd be the same length.
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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