my grandmother used to tell me not to lay in the grass for fear bugs would eat away at my soft skin. i tried to explain this to you, but you tugged me along anyway.
we laid there on the soft green hill, our gazes directed towards the dark sky and stars overhead. it was calm and cool; you mentioned loving the cicada’s music and i replied that i cannot hear them.
we counted the stars as they appeared;
first one, then three,
then five, then more.
i couldn’t find a pattern in their seemingly random design but you were certain that was the big dipper shining so brightly.
you asked if what we saw was something special.
i looked at you, red
lips curving into a smile
as i answered
“yes,
yes, it is.”
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
my grandmother used to tell me not to lay in the grass for fear bugs would eat away at my soft skin. i tried to explain this to you, but you tugged me along anyway.
we laid there on the soft green hill, our gazes directed towards the dark sky and stars overhead. it was calm and cool; you mentioned loving the cicada’s music and i replied that i cannot hear them.
we counted the stars as they appeared;
first one, then three,
then five, then more.
i couldn’t find a pattern in their seemingly random design but you were certain that was the big dipper shining so brightly.
you asked if what we saw was something special.
i looked at you, red
lips curving into a smile
as i answered
“yes,
yes, it is.”
relationships love lgbtq lgbt girlfriends gay lesbians pride queer
Request permission to use this poem