i am very much done w/ the way my body feels up all night lying flat in bed thinking of how u might look carved into soft moonlight
#2:
ur face reminds me of my chest from when i was 13 yrs old & waiting in agony for something more mountainous to seize what was flat
#3:
i see the way u look at me when we r at a friendβs n-w that i have stopped paying attention 2 u pls stop looking at me as tho there were nettles in ur throat, beestings in ur lap!
prompt: Using Bergvall's introduction as a guide, write a poem that meddles/middles.