Lost daydreams and summer nights
fill my mind with stars.
But the memories I have of you
are more beautiful by far.
You told me
Not to think of quadratic formulas
In metaphors.
But the stars are scars on
Skin the color of ink
In the pens you like to use.
And the color of my eyes is
Smoke that smells of cinnamon
Like the perfume of your new girl
And the hair of the little boy
Who walked past us
laying side by side on the grass
Is sunlight dancing on morning dew;
My seventh grade math teacher said
Not to think of quadratic formulas
In metaphors
But the moon is still a dancer
Turning, changing
Just like us.
YOU ARE READING
We Write for Fear of Silence
Poetry{My soul put into words. Writing is how I put myself back together again. Writing is how I love.} **all poems are mine** HIGHEST RANKING: #30 IN POETRY & #1 IN TEEN POETRY
