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grace Sep 2017
i watched the smoke loom into the sky.
you and i, we don't pay it any mind.
the blood is rushing to my face—
vesuvius who?

a.d. sixty-two: an earthquake shook the ground.
that was seventeen years ago, and we are twenty now.
four days ago the shakes started again
but i don't mind the sound.

i close my eyes and i am gone
the room is full of heat
volcanic ash and tephra and gas—
forever, we're asleep.
grace Nov 2015
how could u assume
that all i am
is a body

isn't it obvious
that i'm also
a soul
grace Nov 2015
how can i describe it.....

it's the feeling you get when you're running through a grass-y area with someone you care about
you're running so fast, your legs are kicking up into the air and you feeling like your body can't keep up and you're going to fall
you're grabbing the other person's wrist (or vice versa), so you know if you fall, they're coming down with you
and you can feel the dewy grass against your bare ankles. it's early spring, or maybe early fall.
the air is starting to get cold, so your cheeks and nose are bright red
then you fall
you can feel the wet grass through your jeans
you roll on your back and watch the clouds and laugh, you can't stop laughing
you feel open, happy, and alive

i can't quite put my finger on what this feeling is...
originally published here:
grace Nov 2014
i want to be golden
i want to be a day time star
by night, i will fill with heat.
i will explode.

i want to be golden
i want to be a filling
inside your tooth.
in a few months, i’ll fall out.

i want to be golden
confetti in a balloon
that you pop with a scissor.
sweep me up at the end of the party,

i want to be golden
the ring that she wears.
it matches her party dress
and the gold in her hair.

i want to be golden
the golden days of the past.
i want to be a memory.
one that won’t last.

i want to be golden
the dusk of the day
the sun shone bright
but disappeared over the horizon

i want to be golden
the leaves on the tree.
but the winter’s coming
and soon they will fall.

i want to be golden
a mosaic in a museum
hanging on a wall.
look, but please, don’t touch.

i want to be golden.
i want to be a dream.
i want to seem real, sparkling gold.
but i want to be glitter.
15 november 2014
grace Oct 2014
the bags under my eyes
don't tell half the story.

scrape your guts up off the floor,
forget what i said when i said i was sorry.
grace Aug 2014
the babbling creek reminds me
that sometimes it's best to shut up.
the dandelion leaves fly through the air,
scattered just like my thoughts.
i want to feel the wind on my face
just like i felt before.
my teeth chatter and my fingers crack
just because i need you more.
the starry sky is my treasure map,
i follow it all the way.
looking up at it,  i've learned from it
just how to stay on track.
the loneliness sleeps in my bed,
but it's not all that's there.
you could say that i prefer it,
but i say that's not fair.
just listen.

my brother says that one day i'll be
away from this place.
another lifetime, another state,
just something else to hate.
the doctor says i still have time
to become an employee
to work my life from 9-5
and to never feel that free.
i've read some books that tell me
that's not the case and there's still something out for me.
i roll my eyes and bite my lips
cause i don't know who to believe.
and if i asked you what you thought,
you wouldn't know the half.
time's like this where i see why
i'm never going back.
i'm staying.
*really doesn't have anything to do with treasure maps
grace Jul 2014
i can feel the dark circles under my eyes
and the burning in my head.

do you remember the way you used to lay next to me?
do you remember all those things you once said?
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