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Devon Lane Aug 2022
Doctor, please! I have come down with a terrible case,
a disease so rare you may have never seen.

She grabbed my heart and gave it a long squeeze,
I'm having a bit of trouble getting back on my feet.

I'd do anything for her so she lives her life with ease.
Sing to her, cook for her, and dowse my body in gasoline.

Hopefully, soon again I am groovin' to the beat.
I just love her so much I've forgotten how to breathe.

As she lights the match, I will not scream
because her darkness is something I'll never let myself see.
Devon Lane Jun 2022
“Do you know what you want?”

Yes, listen,

I want to hear glowing creamy light kiss my houseplants in the morning.

I want to feel the weight of my gravity against that ****** diner booth at 3am.

I want to dance until I can’t breathe between the upturned corners of my crooked and cracked teeth.

I want to hold every single cell in my body and watch them trickle through my fingers like sand.

I want to stand barefoot in the snow and watch it melt into an ocean, then a desert, then to dust. I am dust. We all are.

I want to see how small I am under city lights and smoke and breathe it all in.

Don’t forget to breathe out.

I want to drive until there is absolutely nothing left in my mirrors.

I want love to boil inside of me so I can help feed another starving heart.

I want the same internal convection in return.

I want nothing more than every square kilometer of the moon.  

I wanted you.
Devon Lane Jun 2022
You were the chocolate sprinkles on my soft serve.

Burrowing into my chest like a sandcrab melting through saltwater and ocean city sand.

Fading into my body, until we became one gooey sticky sweet mess.

Such a beautiful summertime massacre.

I prefer the mountains in June. A cool evergreen breeze sighing through my buzzcut season.

This is what true royalty feels like, to sleep forever under the pines. A place we wanted to grow.

I shaved my head because I’m not yours anymore. Or theirs. I belong to my own shallow grave. So please, do not call me princess.

Disney did not forget to write my story, he was too busy creating women no one would ever receive.

My life has never gone according to plan, stopped praying before bed for my fairytale to fruition.

I created myself. A handsome hairless heroine. The tallest trunk at the peak.

Only faith I have left is in my own photosynthetic cells.

Feeling still a lingering winter. SPF cannot protect me from my own emotions.

I don’t need it to anymore.

Looking down at you from miles away like that man from lilo and stitch.

Sunburnt and confused.

Black sprinkles and ants slow dance on the concrete in my giant sugary shadow.

I wonder do the ***** still bury their troubles? I haven’t been to the beach in years.

You haven’t considered these sappy limbs a place to call home since then.

I always have and I always will.
Devon Lane May 2022
Sounds of a shower ringing against your back like skylights.

I whisper to myself in the silence, a long cotton smile and a breath.

Pillows wreaking of evergreen tides and the taste of your tongue.

Mancala eyes rolling, reminiscing the best parts of my childhood.

Curls caressing me like question marks. I want nothing more than this.

Happiness is holding a hand that never has been held before.

Neon light peaking behind my eyelids, strange faces flashing in the night.

Handed me a triple shot of gasoline in a room full of mirrors.

Homemade pasta and a heaping side of unnecessary apologies.

Stay a little longer. Let’s wake up next to the clouds on my carpet.

Taking care of myself and I’d let you take the wheel without a license.

Ask me if I’m okay again. Go wash your hands again.

Tomorrow is never a promise. Hopefully this lasts past Saturday night.
Devon Lane May 2022
I take two showers a day now.

Mainly because I’ve been sweating bullets and tar.

Cleansing lightning and your thick black ink out of my pores.

Vintage sweatshirts on the beach and a dining room sky.

A pair of haunting eyes going down the drain a little more each time.

I keep your silver close. I haven’t forgotten.  

I feel it cold against the bones in my neck, good memories tears and chills down my spine.

Soft kisses and a storm, wisteria tapping on your window. Whispering our secrets to the neighbors.

When our bodies melted into one against  purple plum thunder.

Letting go is like trying to sell a wool sweater in the summer.

I’ll always remember loving you no matter the weather.
Devon Lane Mar 2022
I don’t even see.
They’re just words on a screen.
She wrote them, no seatbelt fastened.

Gray eyes and all
I love myself,
and my dark passenger.

She’s starting to
arrive at that destination
We never planned a trip for.  

I hope she’s not waiting at the gate.
The way I waited for you,
as you waited for me in that very room.

The words glaring and I see your face.
Touching you touching her touching me touching her.

If I met her mother would she
fatten me up respectfully? Leave it open for spring to come home?

How do I explain
the way you shut my closet door?
The one I was born and raised behind.

I being the poet,
You being the poem.
Amor Fatí, forever and ever, Amen.

Will she drown in
an ocean she wears to class everyday?
Will she still come over for dinner?

Maybe I stay silent.
“She’s not here and that’s okay.”
They’re right.

If you never ask you never know.
They never know unless you speak.
It’s just fire in an uncorked bottle.

Without jet fuel, I burn out eventually.
Don’t lift a finger,
I’ll let my body embrace the atmosphere.

Free falling.
Crash landing.
Into no one’s arms but my own.
Devon Lane Mar 2022
Hold me closer tiny dancer.
Not too close!
I am liquid nitrogen on fire.

I’m still learning how to breathe
my own fumes.
High on my own supply.

Long aqua hairs
floating around in my favorite
swimming pool, sage green sheets.

Carnations dipped in her tender
could cut glass with precision.
Shattering what used to be my truth.

Her entire body under one of my arms,
I am weightless, and I weigh a ton.
She still carries me home.

Small moments like strings on a guitar.
I’ll sing to her, my worst damage has already been done.

Didn’t the tortoise win anyway?
Infatuation ****** the hare and left before sunrise.

Two bodies beaming
in the darkness.
Trying to make light.

She wants to air out my ***** laundry,
scrub the dishes,
cut tiny holes in my heart.

The best medicine
bursts in, unexpected,
Be mindful of addiction.
I’m not ready, and that’s okay.
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