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 May 2014 Kay Reed
It's a Secret
 May 2014 Kay Reed
You know I still love you, right?
   ..... right?
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
Spencer Vaughn
My dad told me that "there are other fish in the sea"
My teacher said I could make up the test
My mom taught me how to separate colored clothes in the laundry
My big sister showed me how to tie my shoes
I taught myself how to fake a smile
I told myself not to take too many pills
I trained my body to stay positive, even on a "low" day
I forced myself to keep my cool even when it is on the edge
The things you need in life aren't given to you by your loved ones
you are the only one who can prepare you for what is to come
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
i hope it seared you,
this moment
your lips on mine
every crease of my mouth
imprinted in your memory
formaldehyde kisses so perfectly preserved
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
Eliot York
The promise
of tonight
stirs within

Let it
5pm, Saturday. #10w
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
Warming Up
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
They say that there was going to be
six more weeks of winter,
but tonight, I'll sleep comfortably
knowing that I'll be warm.

Tonight I might even go out and look at the stars.
How about you lie here with me
and we can become distracted all over again?

Let me run my fingers through your hair
and bridge the distance time has
Not that great, but some words I've been waiting to say.
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
i've found it's impossible to
let go of someone
who's standing
across the room.
i was trying to let go of him while we were sitting in the same classroom, or bumping into each other in the dining hall, or sleeping in our separate beds at opposite ends of the campus. but the truth is we were too close. you can't let go of someone when they're so close to you, when you know you could run into them by just walking down the street. knowing i'll never see him again is all at once comforting and terrifying, because i'll always wonder what would've happened if i'd stayed. if we'd always been just a short walk apart.
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
 Mar 2014 Kay Reed
i turned away so i wouldn't
have to watch you leave, but
i heard your car start and
i panicked

how do i breathe without you,
how do i breathe without,
how do i breathe?
i won't see him for six months and i am scared
 Feb 2014 Kay Reed
Tom Leveille
whenever i hear a wind chime i think of your voice. i wonder what it's like to be your bedsheets. what it would really be like to understand the jargon in your head. i ******* want to kiss you sometimes and then others i really do want concrete between your hands & my skin. i can't think straight all the time so i wonder if it benefits me at all to explain what it means that i don't want or expect anything from you but if we accidentally liked eachother in that middle school "sort of way" then i wouldn't say no. i want to really understand what you mean when you say "stay" to me in our texts. i wonder if your sleeping pills do to you what they do to me. i'm thinking again about "stay" and maybe i'm choked up on you leaving for school up north but i'll never tell you because get the **** out of here and don't look back especially not for me. stay. your smile, genuine or not tears me in two. i wish every face on the planet had your smile and i am ******* afraid of you wearing lipstick. i'm terrified of your bare skin and goodbyes. i hate farewells and see you laters. i knew the first time i saw you interact on your phone while drinking coffee the way you text people and how i now do the same thing. i get around read receipts. i sometimes want to hear you say you want.. not so much me, maybe me, but my company. theres a park near my house where i've imagined us paddle boating. i got written up at work once for daydreaming about it. what the **** is in a friendship anyway, decency in a human isn't biological. i get hung up on knee jerks and gut reactions. i want to know what the ******* are thinking about when i look up and you are looking right at me. but then again, i don't. as long as i'm wondering. as long as the door might swing open or closed. stay. go. run. **** your collarbones. **** your chest and skin and lips and everything i hate but crave and might like about you without say so. stay. sit down and explain to me why it is that i care anyway. i am afraid that if i say i want to *******, you'll think i mean *******, and not "*******". i wanna know if any of this sounds familiar and i here i am back to wondering what the **** is going on and why you're looking at me. the hair on my neck stands on end when you do and another thing... **** poetry. i cloud my feelings for you & anything else with the abstract so you'll never really know if i ******* hit rock bottom or not over the fact that i know we will never kiss. somebody just said "**** buddy" on tv and i think sometimes symmetry between irony & circumstance. i have harbored some of these thoughts since the night you said hello to me. i'm sorry i had to get over the fact that once upon a time i wanted to save somebody, and you weren't going to let it be you. i do sometimes think my hands might break you, that you spend your day painting a picket fence in your head that you can't get on one side or the other on. i felt like you didn't want to get up from dinner and i rushed it out the door because i am afraid to start a sentence with so. so stay. i am sorry my words often wear brass knuckles. your smile shoots to **** and if i ever die while you still remember my name i want you to read this or read something at my funeral. i don't know if these butterflies are waiting for me to jump or sit down but they speak up when my phone lights up & it's you.
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