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Meredith Ann Dec 2021
Everything about you was melting sticky sweet.
Meredith Ann Aug 2020
On slow summer afternoons,
I'd clime the crabapple tree next to my house,
as high as I could, book in hand,
and read until the bark bit my skin too deep.

On my sure decent,
I would conemplate the emotions I had searched for in those words,
enveloped in melancholic relief,
and would begin my online mascarade.

The reds, the blues, the greens, the yellows,
identifying my peers,
behind profiles of butterflies and knives,
with the most tragic of stories written in comic sans.

For hours,
sprawled on my Hawaiian quilt,
I'd type up entire lives,
Desperate to fill the void with meaning.

My pink walls were wallpapered,
collected cards and magazine posters,
reflecting the must of crisp airconditioning in an old house,
my feed dancing between hardwood and synthetic wool.

Those years my pastel room
watched my online pursuits
and shielded late-night adventures
bringing light to my gothic pursuits.

Sometimes I regret the lies I lived,
wishing I could find abandoned bonds without shame,
but then I remember the way it sustained me,
and how many feet down I would be without.
A reflection of my middle school summers,
perhaps the most honest of them all.
Tessa, I miss you.
Meredith Ann Aug 2020
May stands alone in itself
Existing to spit in time’s face,
Exposing its lies of even passage,
Foreshadowing the season to come,
As linear progression is lost in self-realization

The first a whirlwind of night
With prom dresses discarded,
Replaced by a third of the material,
In the passenger seat of my best friend’s car,
For nights of blacklight and nostalgia

The rest of the month was spent in Colorado Daylight
Buying trinkets of my forgotten family roots,
Letting a man stain my hand,
As we traded stories about art and light,
sipping spiced drinks I still miss

June was nonexistent
As it is just filled with violet blurs
Of “congradulationsIbetyourmomishappy”s
As winter feelings
Crept into summer stability

In July the pastel smeared into sickening saturation
As fears were fostered under the sparkle of fireworks
Tears spilled in broad daylight
Scabs were destroyed by loud voices and darting eyes
And regrown in passenger seats, forcing longheld confessions

By August little was left but the natural light
Hidden Canadian coves were experienced with an empty mind
Glittering plots climaxed in quiet nights
Sunsets illuminated a reset button
Letting go of this endless summer afternoon
Written about last summer, in the aching void of this one.
Meredith Ann Aug 2020
I have these little vases I keep trying to mount on my wall.
Most I've convinced to stay, but one remains stubborn. '
Maybe it's the humidity,
or maybe it's a sign to lay off on the decorating for now.

Maybe it inspired me, or maybe pushed me to my limits,
as I push my own stubborn heels in,
because for the first time this year, I see a chance to get what I want,
and I owe it to myself.

But now my friends think I hate them,
or maybe they hate me
I think on the third weekend of plans falling through.

Maybe we aren't supposed to be here,
I wonder fearfully,
because I know that even if I'm not supposed to be,
I simply must.

So I will continue to restick my lights
every night to lite my home
In search of some stability.
I cannot afford anything else.
  Jul 2019 Meredith Ann
I close  my eyes
And joyfully enter
The world inside
The ebb and flow
Of luminescent colours
That guide my way
To the inner worlds
I have found a place
Of happiness
Joy and peace
That has always laid
Inside of me
The doorway
To life
  Jul 2019 Meredith Ann
and coins
don't make noise

sit a little closer
I can't see
your face

turned away


all I think


I know
you won't

I see you
I forget the concept of words
I lose my tongue

for charming me
you intention

sit closer
can you see my eyes



are right here
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