Poetry & Prose


so here’s to your graham cracker smile
your sweat-soaked hands that left the pages hydrated.
i didn’t know then that dandelions were ever anything but dead
or that our eye-closed, all-breath wishes were already six feet below.

we split a cigarette, feeling alive by toying with death
but we only pretended to inhale.
i didn’t know then about the migratory flight paths of affection.
or that grass stains don’t come out of khaki.

under the sheets we made shadow stories out of sleep
and locked our pinkies to a promise.
i didn’t know then about insomnia
or that even paper cuts can cause infection.

your dress shoes will always be a size too small
but patent leather never suited you.
i didn’t know then what breathing absence would feel like.
or that no animal can see in total darkness.

i will never know why the black checker starts first
or why the number hands tire after twelve.
but i’m still stepping over cracks in the cement
And searching for clarity in kaleidoscopes.

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