An Ode to February

February remains bittersweet in this town of trees and weeds
The sun teases our shoulders, 
frolicking to us and away again before I can turn my head
Peaking ‘round the corner, making all look like a fool
Spring is shuttering and winter’s goodbyes are hard to bear
as the pack upon my back has already been filled

Dulled senses, Thick socks
Crisp eyes, Thin boots
My sense of direction feels flawed,
The timeline of running shoes and long sleeves
to meet the ecstatic troubles of the fresh season

Months of cold, I don’t know how to see
months of shine again without the strength to mutter hello
The continuation of time fluttering past
as it doesn’t consider who it’s touching
The light blinds my troubled eyes, 
no glasses can repair

February stings every year it appears 
For its candy hearted, hopeful souled, and 
silky smiled span can only make the man look forward
Despite the anticipation, I attempt to remain in 
the month of gooey in-betweens

An ode to the last surviving month of certainty
and the doubt that is to come
An ode to bidding farewell to the practice of the winter
and accepting the challenges of the spring 

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i bite, i sting,
but i’m his everything
he gives, he smiles,
and my love can stretch for miles

dna, shows, and soft kisses in moonlight
he doesn’t dare touch the page
us: the only thing in his sight
he’s never heard of a cage

i love him, and he loves me,
but i don’t know if it’s meant to be
your name is signed,
and i can only hope i don’t leave you behind

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cold girl

empty stomach, colored nails,
tinted lips, and unread tales
fractured hands, unbrushed teeth,
worried looks, and barren beneath

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a poor piece

repeated words

she had said that love was unconditional
though that changed as she went her way
as she waded in and out
as she crumbled, i had doubt
i had to take the page in both hands
smooth it against the corner of the wall
and repeat the words

but repeating for me, i didn’t notice
it was a known
present in my life since birth
fact not feeling
written not heard
religious pre-school had taught me
and cultural expectations showed me
its meaning was interpreted by them
and learnt by flash cards with a big red heart

but she repeated the words
choosing paths only her feet could bear
the sunny side
it was apparent

she repeats the words still
and i repeat them back
but what does that say of our stance?

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they say he takes it from you,
like a ticket stub, only he receives the ride
but it wasn’t like that.
warm, with orange blossoms circling the room
dim light: but enough to say, “i love you”
enough to see his eyes
and his skin
fingers in his hair, it wasn’t the best
but it was him
and i didn’t lose anything

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personal post

i feel so thoughtless and blank. everyone has something to do with their lives and running is like a full-time job. i’d love to join lit mag and do things. take time to just think and live. time to breathe.time to read and write. time for music. time to figure out what’s going on with me. this is a time in my life where that’s what i should be doing. but i’m doing homework and trying to survive. it doesn’t feel fair.

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i fell in love and you’d think that’d make me want to write more but i feel like there is no time to think or be creative or try to put this into poems or whatever
i haven’t had inspiration in a long time
but i’ll try

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