A fluorescent lit car, empty with the exception of me and a boy and girl my age. I study their faces, full of mirth. Once we reach the next stop, giggling fills the subway. Together they agree that they will ride in between the two bulky cars, clutching onto only a silver handle and unspoken apprehension. I watch, alarmed, as they leave the subway compartment. Something about the dangerous romantics of it all, left me in shock. They talk to each other as if it was a casual day, while I pray that one of their brown haired heads doesn’t disappear into the tracks. Hands smell of metal (or is it blood?) and they laugh, outwardly denying their parents with their reckless spontaneity.
reckless spontaneity
More by crisscross
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My low
your features don’t contort when you cry.
tears skate down your face until they get caught
on the side of your nose
or the tip of your chin
-
Men We Reaped
Inspired by Jesmyn Ward
I wish I could tell you how I mourn your innocence,
how I pray for a shield,
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belly buttons and beating hearts
I clung to my baby blanket that wrapped around my limbs. my limbs, small and swollen, cushioned by my mother's organs. I was warm, I clung to the insulation of two beating hearts.
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