JayJay

Sickly sweet,

Your words touch my prefrontal cortex

Like soft burning snow.

Your touch tastes sweeter

Than ice cream

On a humid sun-streaked day.

You,

Frost-borne by the north wind,

In the depths of winter,

in such dry weather,

I go out to get wood,

the cold biting my skin.

I wear gloves to prevent splinter 

made of fine, durable, and tough leather,

Hurt me a in million ways,

and shatter my heart,

then send me away

with an open scar.

Pull me in close,

then rip us apart.

Kill all my hopes

to get what you want.

We are Gen-Z 

Even if you don't think so.

We are here even if we 

Pretend we’re not.

We are matter.  

We take up space.

We are important 

Even if we don't think we are. 

I hold my secrets in the shape of stars,

constellation-clustered candy like flaming balls of gas.

Sometimes they have five points.

Sometimes six.

Always, they burn

in that space inside your head

I keep wondering if something is wrong with me,

Because I can’t seem to understand.

And I don’t want to be the person that only writes about crushes and drama,

I’m not shallow don’t worry.

Yet here I am,