my first ever
saturday detention
felt like a sauna;
as if what was poured
onto the boiling rocks
was acid in disguise
and i was forced to breath it in.
and when i finally thought
that everything was dead
and i was the last reluctant thing
that resumed painfully living;
a chair was occupied swiftly
by a girl whom i could not name.
• tiffany. •
she said;
and oddly took my hand.
a firm and formal handshake.
what a quirk this bird
could perform.
maybe that's what had grasped
hayden's attention.
she stared at me as if saying silently -
i know all your secrets;
and perhaps she really did,
because she whispered:
• a word of advice. •
she sighed
like she was waiting to let that breath go
for so long.
• don't share those little quirks with him,
when he's gone they bring the rain.
the sunsets you see and songs you sing
they will never be the same. •
i stared at her watery eyes
and didn't understand.
but the sincerity of her tears
- even when she turned and walked away -
suggested she had been broken.
but by who?
but door creaked open
just a crack;
and he stood there
picnic basket in hand;
and i face palmed.
dammit hayden.
i can see that palm oil chocolate
in the basket
you idiot.
YOU ARE READING
shaded wings
Poetryher wings would bloom when the pencil drew shades of black and white and tare into two when her body flew into the camouflage of night her heart was sewn to anyone but her own forgetting to love herself but there's a boy that knows his love for he...
