Posts
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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
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Autumnal
the world is colder than before
north winds exhaling dragon breath across the valley and
my doorstep where i wait for the bus (bumblebee against concrete),
rubbing my hands together and
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smartphone.
tiny rectangular black hole
sucking us all in
faster
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for my best friends
1
our friendship needs no labels; the kind of thing where
we ride back from a college basketball game together
on a bus too bright for March and,
voice raspy from shouting,
Loves
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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?
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Hiding
I'm tired of hiding
that I reside in the gay side of youtube.
I'm tired of hiding that I went to the GSA
even though they didn't want me to.
I'm tired of deleting my search history.
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Glimpse
It is a wandering
sort of day
(wandering mind
wandering feet
wandering eyes)
before I find the camera.
It looks old enough
that I wonder
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Reflections of a Tired Girl
I am an enigma; forever stepping in front of mirrors attempting to angle myself in the perfect position to be loved; always making myself smaller than I seem in order to be seen.
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today
today is yesterday’s tomorrow
full of promises that linger as the sun emerges,
a warm breeze colliding against
the soft pillowy fabric of your curtains.
today is yesterday’s tomorrow
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Unbecoming
The streets have teeth and we hold our fingers with enough space for the others and drink cider on a corner where the ceiling above us blinks blue-blue-blue onto her tonsil-pink dress and someday I hope I never have to see it in a suitca