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i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.
gracie 5d
here’s to the thrift store sweaters,
well-worn, wooly and warm,
meant for curling up
with a book and hot tea
as the snow comes
twinkling down.

here’s to the little stray cat
street-smart, striped, and shy,
tossed to the curb
but somehow still grateful
for the touch of a stranger
passing by.

here’s to the weary lovers
run-down, restless romantics who've
learned to stitch up their hearts
and put on their smiles
because life is too short
to waste it
i heckin got this
gracie Feb 8
it was the last time
you ever kissed me goodnight
the day the moon fell
  Feb 8 gracie
"How are you?"

"I’m fine."

fine, fine like mother’s china,
breaking with a touch.
fine, fine like a fair maiden,
for whom only tragedy awaits.
fine, like the thread of life,
flimsy and anxious.
I’m fine,
  Feb 6 gracie
and action
must go
hand in hand.

sugared words
are much
too brittle.
gracie Jan 28
as our gazes collide,
the unraveling begins
with the flame in my throat
burning so fiercely
my words come out fiery,
blistering and desperate
to scald the one
who lit the match and
walked away
comes the storm in my chest,
a hurricane of doubts
pressing up against my lungs,
surging, screaming
if we were in love, why weren’t we enough? why wasn’t i enough? i wasn’t
she is
and then
there’s the calm,
a sweet, sickening ache in my bones
as i picture us, the sensation
of being held in your arms, safe and sound
from every thought
inside my head
when they ask how i feel
about the boy
who broke my heart,
i tell them i hate you
because how could i ever explain
the terrible
i feel at the sight of you.
honestly, i wish i could.
gracie Jan 22
the tall, brown-eyed
scholar with tousled hair and 
endless supply of sarcastic comments; 
stolen sweaters and car rides and
cartoons. sipping hot cocoa
out of Star Wars mugs, study dates, 
playing hide and seek 
in Walmart, hugs that 
made me feel whole

first heartbreak
******* in his passenger seat because 
"it's what lovers do”;
a lonely winter learning 
he did not love me and 
a season spent intertwined 
with a boy who could not 
fill the void in my chest.

golden hair, ocean eyes,
sunkissed skin and downtown flea markets.
threading my fingers between his
sharing our poems over skype
iced coffee and patched denim and 
fresh yellow flowers stashed in my locker.
hugging in the hallway,
silly love notes and soft smiles and 
laughing so hard my ribs hurt.
a sensation of warmth that could rival 
pure sunshine

unopened texts
a subtle disconnection
i held his heart in my palm and
let it slip
i still carry the guilt in my fingertips

overalls. shoulder-length hair, i 
fell in love with the way he said my name
strange, unrecognizable on his lips, ringing
each syllable like a pink-petal
a thrift store parking lot, draped 
across his lap, one hand in my hair, 
the other around my heart;
stolen kisses at stoplights. shivering and 
holding each other so closely
i thought 
we might never unravel

disintegrating. his absence withering away 
my heartstrings; familiar pain and
longing to be held
bitter tears and night air
stroking my hair
in place of the way
his hands made me
an old poem. the loneliness comes and goes;
poem format inspired by haley
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