nikita-marleyWhisper

American

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For Emma and PhoebeThe squeak of rubber soles on the tiled red and black floor. The tripping over ourselves. The track. And you Regina. Making our heads spin slowly. Or Broadway at midnight, Pandora. Dancing, ignoring Mateo next door. After all he is louder than us. Maybe. The July, August, then September sun fading slowly. The gentle kisses of rain on our cheeks and lips. The wet hair, flinging back and forth. Ikea. Rocks. Sexist boys. Thunder. Hipsters. Hips. Chests. Smiles. Laughter. Singing. Dancing. Wet. Perfect. Stage. Dark. These make up our times together. The train. This houses some of them. Ice, cold and hot, slipping over our skin. Water makes us up. We make up our minds. Emails. By the time summer comes, we shall be gone. Taking our chemistry and voices away. Apart we are nothing. Together we are a chorus. Songs. They make up most of what we are. Emotions. They are us.

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A Poem For TodayToday left me with questions / Some pretty confusing questions / I thought a lot today

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Dark (For Isabel)And there is nothing I can do. / And they wrap around me / And I can't breathe

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MidnightYou could go to bed and listen to them partying hard / Outside smoking joints in the night in the backyard / You could complain that their music's too loud

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UntitledI am untitled / I have no name / You don't care

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Beside the PointI drew an exclamation point in the air / I watched it float around / It moved with the people

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I Really LookedI just looked at something. I mean really looked. / It kind of scared me. / But a gentle kind of scare.

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Looking BackI could've had a million likes / And American Apparel / And too many OMGs, and BTWs to count

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I'm back.I'm better now / I was sick / In the spirit

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Him.Do you like him? / I don't want to. / But you do?

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