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gracie 1d
“chew your food”
says my mom as i down a bowl of macaroni with the fierceness of a velociraptor. i don’t need to slow down.
i’m a dinosaur.
another 2 min poem
gracie May 13
i don’t want to fall in love
i want to step into it, slowly
like a shower on monday
morning. warm, easy-on-the
the bones; softness, two hands
to hold and a mouth to tell me
stories. someone to whisper
what-ifs across the wire and
fill the kitchen with kisses
and strawberry cake
i don’t want to fall in love

i want to make it.
gracie May 9
I love strawberries
remind me of little
fruit hedgehogs,
so sweet.
I hope I find myself
surrounded by
strawberryhogs
this summer.
That would be wonderful.
A summer of red delight.
take that conor
gracie Apr 28
You never knew the garden
I grew from within
or the ripe honeysuckles
intertwined with my ribs
you never pressed your mouth
to my pink prim-rose lips
or felt your hands laced
between my fern fingertips
you never saw the buttercups
brim behind my eyes
or the soft blue forget-me-nots
speckling my thighs
you never heard my voice
not a laugh, not a word
so don’t tell me I’m missing
what you found in her.
gotta get something out of these emotions
gracie Apr 15
Lock the doors
and **** the engine.

There’s a storm coming.

Heavy scent of hunger and humidity,
rain against the roof, the rhythm we fall into
slowly, a little stronger with each breath.
You come closer, whispering like thunder
in my ear so soft,
so bold.
I have always been weak in the face
of cruel fingers and gentle mouths,
but you are undoing me
wholly, completely
and I cannot resist
the petrichor
anymore.
gracie Apr 7
please,
keep your distance.
i'm not sure i could survive you
a second time.

                                    

                         ­                -overalls
gracie Apr 6
for the first time
the future is a risk, uncertain
and ominous
a cliff above dark waters where
i'm told to dive headfirst,
eyes-closed, into icy depths
praying i'll know how to swim
but for the first time
the future is a mystery, new
and limitless
a story not yet written by the hands
of fate and strangers passing by,
coffee shop patrons and the stray
cat crossing 5th street
perhaps this is the first time
when the future is truly mine
to find.
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