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190 · Feb 2016
Burning
Kelsey Feb 2016
I want to build a fire.
Want to lay down beside her.
Want to sleep under the sky
Far away from streets and lights.
Want to fall into the earth
Sleep with no one, only her.
Dig my fingers in the dirt.
Help me remember I am earth.
186 · Mar 2018
Was I the only one There?
Kelsey Mar 2018
My dad caught me making tampons
From duct tape and toilet paper.
Sat me down and said,
He’s proud of me,
But I shouldn’t have to do this.
He’ll make sure
I have the things I need.
My smirk stares straight past him.
The things I need.
When dad is away we brush our teeth with alcohol.
We mix sugar into water
For our breakfast.
I’ve cleaned wounds with Clorox wipes.
Our medieval, dusty medkit shows no mercy.
We rubbed leaves into our ****** knees
And pretended
That we knew what the **** we were talking about.
With lies about what “elders” taught us.
Or maybe it was just me?
Maybe it was just me
Who curled up on the hearth
Shaking while my shins melted,
Filling the hole under my ribcage
With my fists.
While the kitten froze to death
Under a leaky water pipe.
The things we need.
Maybe it was just me
Who kept living like a refugee,
Or felt I ever was one?
Using one shelf of five assigned to me,
A bag of food packed under the bed
Long into my first years of college.
Living without when things ran out.
Embracing the word “gone”
As a new way of living.
Steak dinners from my father all the while.
Money for band t-shirts?
Ask your mother.
But new sound systems,
Let’s start a farm,
Adopt a sister,
And travel the country
Eating at only old diners.
The things we need.
The things we need.
186 · Sep 2014
Are the Dead ever Sleeping?
Kelsey Sep 2014
She's like a dream
she just appears
Three A.M.
She isn't real
He's like a dream
Her body is a shell
Did last night happen?
She can never tell
Was she here?
He never knows
The complex life
of loving a ghost.
Do I want him?
She asks herself
Silently she stays,
but by morning nothing's left.

— The End —