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May 2019
it’s november when
the meds kick in, it’s
december when i feel
human again. (or maybe,
for the first time?)

i lack less.
found an appreciation
for something or another
dug up in the front yard
by a half-blind dog.
appreciation for
the living
and the
quiet
small
moments.

i used to know empathy,
used to take her hands
between mine in
cut scenes
but those were
   trembling eras
    of seconds,
    caught between
  an intensity i’ve since
        given     away.

an inferno.

of being
in love
with
wheat
grass bet-
ween
high
ways
and

last bit
of clouds
eating sun
like nectar
in the rearview:

or sweet talking
directly into his eyes
at midnight, hearing
a smile in the smoke
that separates our
houses.

cats with twigs
and dirt swimming
in their bellies.
ghosts in the
woods beyond
my car,
yowling at
the full moon
as if they
were born
to.

i now know
the silence and
warmth of
sleep.

i exist alongside
unfamiliar calm,
a quaint silence
that does not
burn at the
                 touch.





but

the world is
almost softer
            almost
                       lighter   --

my skin is
held to-
gether
with
some
thing
more
than
glue.

     (maybe
      stitches?)

i wonder
if i was
human
the whole
time.
re-wrote a poem i wrote half a year ago, i'm turning it in for a poetry class portfolio. honestly im gonna edit it again but this is the first edit for now. if i change anything major i'll probably put it here and edit it or maybe rework entirely.  who knows~~~
ophelia letourneau
Written by
ophelia letourneau  22/F/north carolina
(22/F/north carolina)   
173
     n stiles carmona and Pluto
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