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Found 3 results

  1. untitled

    i miss when everything was an achievement when getting out of bed was not a responsibility and things did not start at 6:00 AM i miss when friends were just playground buddies and bathroom partners gossip was just crushes and not who just killed themselves or who is high right now and where can i get some of that i miss when we called hanging out play dates, when we played make believe because we wanted to, and not because we are afraid of real life
  2. little kid closet

    i grow out of clothes often, but i never miss them, quite as much as i miss my horse sweater, all itchy and pink with rolled up edges or my purple dress, that i only wore when we made banana bread or at my birthday party in australia with the sterling roses and tea cakes
  3. The lights are on again

    There are lights on in the house next door. The glowing yellow window-eyes Shine forlorn and hazy through the evening fog. It’s been a long time Since those lights shone through the dark, And it’s been night for a small forever. The lights are full of memory, Beacons that speak of laughter, Childhood cartoons, Blue and orange play-dough. I still look out for them, even though They aren’t on much anymore. The light isn’t warm either, it’s too distant To be anything but stained-glass And unreachable. My mother says it’s not my fault, (The ghost stories) That they didn’t leave because of me. (The wild one) The doors are locked for another reason, But I can’t help wondering (Hoarse from yelling, cursing the world) Whether it would’ve been different If I had grown up normal. Could I still go back to the windows? Lay my palm flat against the clear glass And look in at past playtimes and exploration Through the orderly little neighborhood? Or would the lights turn off, blink out, Like they usually do, Leaving me in the empty winter street And the frigid, soul numbing air, Wishing I hadn’t grown up a freak? But it’s too late now. The lights are just on tonight While I’m trapped inside this box of a bedroom, Staring at them like they’re lighthouse gleams From an island far away. I think I’ll stay back here and remember them, Waiting as time takes their glow little by little. At least they won’t fade from my mind.
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