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Summers only get hotter
Don’t they?
Spitting cherry pits
On the train tracks
That separate chosewood
From Lakewood
Cherry wood
I like the stain left on
My fingers
My lips
Runny bliss
Sampling the simplicity
Of hot
& sticky
& condensed
Forms of self
Nice girls
Get the chance
To be hurt again
And again
Right?
Do bruised fruits taste less sweet?
Not really sure
Just spitting cherry pits
Onto train tracks
It’s blue hour
And I’m looking at the
Bird house
On the corner of flat shoals
Paradise plants
And like
Twelve cars in
The driveway

It’s a specific type of hot
The ten minutes before
The sun actually sets
And silver halos everything
My sweat makes me a little
Too cold to feel comfortable
And I think about the
Long sleeve
Denim I left
At a one night stand’s
House, uncomfortable,
I hope he knows
I didn’t leave it
For any reason to come back,
Just that I’m forgetful,
Fraught with impermanence.
Although I would
probably
Come back too
You know
If I was wanted, maybe,
A whisper of affection
Or if things were different,
If I was different

Anyway
It’s blue hour
And with everything that
The silver halos
I can’t stop staring at
The bird house
On the corner
it's rainy season
and I find myself lost
in small love(s)
not present
& purely situational
but it's nice
holding hands
during rainy season
inheriting
the petrichor
that's just passing through
spring floats through
with graduation balloons
and plasticine
alteration accompanied by
sweat behind my knee

I'll keep pivoting
and maybe soon
I'll find the courage
to take a step
in a direction
i bought myself a necklace
the letter "M"
is gold
and strong

it got so tangled in the
baby hairs
at the base of
my neck

you cut it free
because I was
so lost in
you
I've always been a lover
the kind that dives in to the deepest
end of the pool
it's easy to empty
the contents of my lungs
to sink
further
not really knowing
if this water
is safe

and now looking up from
the bottom of you
I've decided
it's time to
come back up
for air
Talking about sheet cake
And its plasticky persistence
How it holds to the roof of your mouth
The way words carry abundance, multiplicity
And the way roots dig into the ground
Comparing our years
In a wealth of cigarette butts
And saw dust
And new leaves on the plants
We’ve grown since
Ducking under wet branches
And building into ourselves

We’re older friends now
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