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i notice these moments
more than anything else
you can call me "beautiful"
we can make love to my
favorite songs, but even
though i take that home
with me, it stays in the
bag i brought instead of
the pores in my body.
there's a silent movie in
my head that replays
e  v  e  r  y  s  i  n  g  l  e
gas station, back road
beaten up motel moment
that makes me certain that
you are a front cover to
my back one, & in between
the two of us, we'll create
a story that'll put the bible
in the drawer next to the
motel bed to shame.
wish you were here to tell me stupid jokes & make the sun go down already
 Aug 2014 Megan Grace
brooke
put this in your wallet
you said, and you ripped
a dollar in half, I told you
it was illegal and you shrugged
just keep it in your wallet*
how many times have I
been over you, written
a silly poem about leaving
you, talked about letting go?
well, talk about letting go,
Chris, I can't take it out.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Aug 2014 Megan Grace
brooke
do you
drive past
walmart three
times trying to
decide if you want
m&ms;, if only people
heard the fights that go
on inside your head, the
way you feel the weight
of your skin on your legs
you have scabs from thigh
rub from running up hills
apparently men like meat
compared to bones but will
strip you for all your worth
like a beef rib, have you seen
those rubberbands that have
sat too long in the sun? or
grapes at the bottom of the
bowl? strawberries in the
corner of the basket?
won't cut your hair
because you think it's
the only beautiful thing
about you, do you eat
bread in splendor and
pretend you're john,
peter, mark and luke
you're just trying to
be passage in the
**** bible, effortless
poetic, in red, his
words, spoken
by a prophet.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Aug 2014 Megan Grace
brooke
last night i heard you
speaking, as i was
waking up, you
were speaking
to me, I heard
you God, I
heard you.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014

I heard you
i heard you.
 Aug 2014 Megan Grace
marina
and this
t  i  m  e,
i will not
beg  you
t            o
s       t       a       y
i am learning how to say goodbye instead
Dearest Reader,


My name is Margot Dylan, and I'm a pariah.

On the 16th of April, I told my mother that I was gay. She threw the clay mug that I made for her before she found out I was gay, against the floral, peeling wallpaper mess of a wall, in our kitchen. The decaffeinated peppermint green tea left a wonderful aroma that almost cleansed the room of the stench of 'lesbian'.

I met Dylan Dunham a few days after that, and, a few days later, she was the first girl that I ever loved.

Dylan wore a red flannel jacket, and was a butch and sometimes a *****-but I loved her even at her tomboy cruelest.

Dylan smoked a cigarette that smelled like lonerism, and she looked at me like she didn't care. My heart skipped a beat, as cliche as it sounds, whenever she would remove the cigarette from her mouth, exhale, and look at me as smoke traveled up her face. I looked at her and knew that she was everything that I wasn't, and everything that I wanted.

Dylan was Dianne, before and after school. Dylan was Dianne, who wore floral dresses and lipstick and who ditched her butch clothing in her locker before leaving. Dylan was Dianne, who was straight and who thought Tyler Wesson, from church, was cute. Dylan was Dianne, who had a short hair cut because of track and field, because she explained that she ran a faster time with less hair. Dylan was Dianne, who didn't associate with me before or after school because her parents knew that I was gay.

During school hours, the only thing Dylan did keep from Dianne was the lipstick. I was envious of the cigarette because of it's burgundy stains. We would stand in a stall, as she looked across from me, after each drag. She frequently offered her cigarettes, but I refused because I only let love **** me. If she ever brought alcohol, sometimes she'd kiss me. I told her that I loved her and she said, "I know."

The only thing that Dylan kept from me was my heart, before she started to smoke cigarettes in the bathroom with Annie Way.


I wish you the best moments so they can overcome the worst,

Margot Dylan
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