poetic_star's picture

not your ghost anymore

*wrote this with my best friend.

Underground railroad tracks run
through this cowboy town and
your vulnerable heart,
splitting in half,
makes you groan whenever
I bury my face in your neck
and unbutton your shirt,
tracing circles around
your trans-Atlantic hipbones.

Caleb, you are splayed;
sometimes here with me,
other times, nowhere in
the foreseeable future of
our baseball swimming hole days,
and loving you isn't easy
or sweet like condensed milk
and holiday music playing
in a fireplace-lit room.

Like a ghost with vindictive fingers,

poetic_star's picture

Rainbow Flags and Torn-up Letters

We wanted to make history.
We wanted to make this an
epic thing filled with riots
and dangerous kissing
behind liquor stores,
feeling the thrill of
being chased to death,
having our hearts
beating on the edge.

Or perhaps, that was what I wanted.
Darling, you only wanted waffles,
sugary and tasty at 8 A.M;
holding hands while listening
to Harvey Milk on the radio.
"You gotta give them hope," he'd said.

You always liked a good
old-fashioned thunderstorm,
watching from the window
as it ripped open the sea
and spilled its foamy secrets
all over the harbor.

Icarus's picture

What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you.

so...i haven't written anything worthwhile since the beginning of august. and then i wrote this just now.....

so yeah, tell me what you think....

for the record, this is fiction, though you're probably smart enough to figure it out, but yeah.....didn't happen.


"I see your taste in fashion hasn't changed."

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