Posts
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one half of a best friends necklace
i haven't seen my best friend in six days and i've already watched all our old videos with the bad lighting & worse camera angles, clicked through the pictures of us together and got all sentimental like i have a pretty awesome life after
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249th
blow out your candles.
make a wish.
hold up a protest sign.
tonight the fireworks spell R E S I S T.
your hair's in pigtails braided red blue and white.
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fourth of july and i have to remind myself that
they're scared.
that's it.
they: shout misspelled arguments in all caps send soldiers to peaceful
protests yell into microphones turned all the way up shut down dissent
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prescription (go sailing)
sometimes i think just one sunny day would cure me of everything.
other days i think pills and tonics and treatments are lies that i continue to swallow.
most days i just daydream about last summer when our tiny sunfish
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somewhere in new zealand with a bowl of pasta
for a friend
i picture you some days – a utensil in one hand and your cheek
in the other, gazing somewhere in the distance as your
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Connections
submission for next year's prompts:
Use the NY Times Connections as a writing prompt! Take all 16 or one line of the words generated in there (before it's been solved) and use them in a poem or short story.
Loves
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Waiting in the Hall of Memories
Every Halloween, one house on your street stays dark; no lights, no candy, no decorations. The neighborhood kids whisper about it, daring each other to knock, but no one ever does.
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Routine
Create
writing
medium or genre
poetry
body
this is my routine;
come home from school
open to this the first chance I get
write.
Write
write
write
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“Believe Me”
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.”
“I love you.”
“You don’t.”
“You live in the stars.”
“My feet are planted on the earth.”
“But your eyes are reflecting them.”
“They’re not.”
“Believe me.”
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We (are) the People
Who are we?
Are we men
in offices, yes that would still be
us.
But, I think we are also the boy who got a flag from the lady in the parade and waves it because he loves his country
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sophomore year later
i used to dream
of the day
i started middle school,
thinking the excitement
of getting older
outweighed the pain
of growing up.
my teachers wondered why.
and now that i'm in
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Grow up, not grow old
They say I'm too young to know what love is,
Too quick to believe in forever and kisses.
They roll their eyes when I speak from my chest,
As if my heart's too small to feel this mess.