tonight i read a poem that i wrote a few months ago that i wasn’t planning on ever reading aloud and i don’t think people liked it, but it felt good to read it.
me trying to participate in sports
my phone just screamed out “CANNOT GET GPS SIGNAL” and i wasn’t even using it wtf
"Adam didn’t pull his weight as a mover and my gosh…Crosby, he injured himself being a schmuck. So, I guess by default you win the best mover prize."
this moment was so emotional
spring was made for afternoon naps.
I read this is Kayla r’s voice
Yesterday my mother asked me where my words come from.
I told her I wasn’t sure,
and the wrinkle between us sunk deeper
into the living room.
She stared at me – you cannot be my child –
until she gave up and looked away.
Today I am writing this poem about it.
She will never know that it exists.
She will never know that some of my words
came from her – her hollow eyes,
her unanswered questions,
her tentative love.