sophia Aug 9

my sheets know your secrets
my pillows, your thoughts
my blanket misses your warmth
and i,
i miss your touch

sophia Aug 5

salty
tears race down the side of my
freckled nose
which will get there first?
to
the point on my face
the sun has kissed
the most

temple
burns
eyes
drowning in fear
my skin
yearns for a minuscule buss of the sun
the warm wind on my cheeks
the sienna light of the sky

my head
residues upon a pillow
as if it’s been detached
and laid to rest
no longer apart of my nature

what if
the sun is our oxygen  
and we spend all
our nights
searching
for a breathe of fresh air

sophia Aug 5

Your shoe is untied, the nervous man said.
Your shoe is untied, the nervous man said.
Perched on the park bench, coffee breath.
Perched on the park bench, coffee breath.
Bench said, shoe is untied breath.
Perched the, your on the coffee nervous man.

I see through the trees a young building grows.
I see through the trees a young building grows.
And emerald trees and topaz skies brighten its youth.
And emerald trees and topaz skies brighten its youth.
Trees youth the trees young skies building grows.
And emerald the through, young it’s and, topaz brighten I see young.

The nicotine fresh, second-hand smoke.
The nicotine fresh, second-hand smoke.
Clouds the buildings lungs too early for it to care.
Clouds the buildings lungs too early for it to care.
The smoke to care too fresh early.
For hand clogs nicotine buildings clouds the it lungs the.  

Their shoes will always be untied, I always nervous.
Scratched knee on the park bench,
Reassuring coffee breath.
Emerald and topaz brightens the eyes of youth,
Second-hand smoke, they cough.
I care too much, we say good-bye to the building.

sophia Jul 31

Chin pointed to the clouds,
her face
following the soft sunset
saddened by the disappearing daylight
as if she will loose a sense of hope
when the sun
goes down.
Pineapple and Malibu
stains the bottom of her cup
that she stole not seconds ago
from the bar on the corner.
Oh my love,
how she doesn’t care to live
doesn’t fear consequences.
Face still scrunched up with disappointment
as if I need to convince her to stay-
her thoughts flowing out of her head
into the skies above her.
She observes them,
Dark blue
Reds
Orange
Hints of purple.
Eyes sunken,
fists full of cloth
arms around her knees.
She turns to me suddenly,
breaking the flow
of her daydream.
Only 18,
hiding behind that baby face.
The only color left
in her big blue eyes
is the white of her pupils
in the moon lit
cigarette winds.
“Do you want to get out of here?”,
the words escape her mouth as she
looks for reasons to stay
checking under the table,
rustling through her bag.
But she’s tired of
knowing not which way to go.
So taking off for the night,
escaping her worries for one more day,
she sighs
and gets up,
only taking with her
the sand on her feet.

Sophia Hadeshian

— The End —