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morseismyjam Jun 10
Summer fills me with nostalgia in a way that I cant explain. But when the air hears up and the black ants crawl all over our house I find myself remembering when we covered the window with sheets so we could sleep when it was still light.

Most years I was alone, friends not good enough to contact outside of school.
I stayed up late in bed reading every night. It was during summer that I stumbled on my first podcast, on my first ****** novel, on my first question of gender.
In the heat of summer I sought change. Alone, I struggled with questions of college and career and the future. I despaired, sobbing into my pillow until I fell asleep.

Summer is full of possibility, of the past, of the future.
I caught fireflies out on the lawn, I put cicada husks in a jar and kept a tally, I invented games for myself and my sisters. I work late nights and come home to a warm house. I eat cereal for 3 meals a day.
The rules don't apply to Summer.
Beckie Davies May 24
I was lying on her leather couch
This kind of love is not allowed
Two thousand and twenty one
Time moves on but stigma doesn't
I'm falling in love with her leather couch
I'm getting lost in the creases that she has created
My hands smell like discovery
Her hair looks like purpose
I was lying on her leather couch
I think it's a place where I could be found
time moves on but stigma doesn't
Cole May 20
I've been hiding myself for so long
I almost forgot who I was.
I've closed off my light
To please others,
But I was never happy
Being that perfect little girl

I am not.
Your terms do not define me.
Girl. Boy. Non-binary.
Who cares what I am?
I am anything.
I will not remain that

I am far beyond what you have told me to be.
Cole May 18
Holding me
But I soon realize
It's just in my head
He is not to be seen.
As I grow up and open my eyes
What if I was the savior I needed.
The villain just a cookie cut.
The God they speak of never came down.
I have been left here on my own.
Struggling with myself.
The eternal hell I live.
boy or girl
right or wrong.
God wasn't there.
I get older.
I realize
I'm alone again, of course.
We are one person.
Both of us.

People watch me always
Will I jump? Will I soar?
"SHE is a kid."
"SHE doesn't know."
"What's your name?"
Emily. Cole!
Sindi Dec 2020
Never knew I could write until I picked up a pen
Never knew I could walk until I stood up
Never knew I could sing until I opened my mouth
Would have never known you if you didn't appear
chris Apr 9
i've lost myself in another one's soul
i'm a carrot trapped in another soup’s bowl
now i must plan my literary escape
the forward momentum of an enlightened ape
uncover the furniture and pull back the drape
i live for myself not under one’s cape

may our work be fruitful and that of our own
with only your own eyes will light be shown
wander the desert with seeds to be sewn
but meet other travellers or ring them by phone
but never be lost in another one’s tone
or tomb
written a while ago
standing in the middle of some vast, empty space—the kind of ocean or plain where you can see the edge of a dream in all directions

and it opens to you, and you let it in—womblike—everything around you is meaningful, whether it’s beautiful or horrible or sublime

it must be written above and left to fall as the wettest raindrop, tempting fate, and fate retaliated—again there was light, and again there was darkness, a new day
Steve Page Mar 24
Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
your soul might well come out to play
a more complex tune
which cries out for harmony
(perhaps for rhapsody)
and tries to wrap its finger
around your heart

Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
my soul bears it's inner self to the elements
and in doing so finds a kernel
of my younger me
who plays and dances fresh steps
and treads lightly on our path
of aging

Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
there's a slim and faint opportunity
to discover a you and a me
that hasn't yet found the North Star
or yet found our shared identity
our fresh scar and grasped
the nettle of the future
hand in stung hand

Once every blue moon
Twice each new moon
in the uncomfortable pause between songs
we dance on bruised feet
holding on for a fresh new beat
and refuse to let this new future pass.
"Sometimes your inner voice wants to express itself and every once in a while, every blue moon, your soul comes out to play." -Brian Wilson played by John Cusack in Love & Mercy.
Abi Carroll Mar 15
Fire Agate

Rendered at last,
  with seamless lines
    of every shade
  and layer on top of layer

As we know,
  one burning tree
    can set
      it's forest aglow

and so came her soul
  with fire's inside

    But with fire comes chaos

Birches chirp
  for consequential change
    for her edge's
      to chip away
Then a Maple
  , through sweet rustles,
     asks for more
Willows fume
  fatal wishes
    for the forest
    to surrender,
  for water over embers
A Cypress follows
  , with deep concern,
      and begs to stand
Ashes whisper
  for another
    just one more day
But an Elm
  seeks that same color
    but within her
  and to stay

It's dangerous to dance
  with this many tree's

"One day,
  maybe I'll break,
and maybe someone,
  maybe you,
    will see

between the waves
  that meet at peak,
    that fold into another,
see why the cold sky
  shy's behind the hot sun
    but are drawn together,
see below the clear surface
  that deceives
    by gifting you assumptions,
see how clear agate
  over hematite
    gives you iridescence,
see beyond the points
  we know,
    and please see
  where a circle stops.

Maybe you'll see
  what I can't

    , me"
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