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Renai Oct 21
O' prepossessing garden

for you resemble my youth,

an innocence I no longer bear.
Thank you for taking the time to read this!
JJ Inda 2d
Innocent is the unborn,
till it's first breath.
A product of guilty parties,
thus ignorance allows it's visceral cries.
I beg,
condemn them not,
their fate (like all) is sealed.
Death,
not one soul has yet forgotten.
do you ever look at that freshman year photo of yourself,
(maybe hair fuzzed, maybe eyes wide, maybe teeth wider still,)
and think,
“ugh!!!”
you think, “that’s not me.”
and you’re right.
it’s not old.
it’s not tired.
it hasn’t slept through first period yet - and survived.
(so you had to fight off two cats to do your homework, ended up being pretty rushed and of course you know teacher wants your best work…)
it hasn’t crashed a car into the garage yet.
(*******, you were going so slow! how did that even happen??)
it hasn’t had sweaty-palmed movies, a quick rub on the pants before going in for the hold.
(she smells so good!)
your mom makes you broccoli, extra mushy because that’s how you like it, and you get a little teary.
you think “i haven’t cried over broccoli since i was five.”
you wear the same coat that you did in seventh grade.
the arms are stained.
you can almost still see grass from hills long ago.
when you put it on, your stomach still rolls down those hills a little bit.
you feel the cold snaps inside its very lining,
an excited screech, a simple pleasure.
you still know how to do that special little breath before the big one when you step outside.
(means your lungs don’t turn into icicles. maybe you won’t need it where you’re going.)
i bought that coat about one foot two ago.
(i’ll still need it where i’m going.)
i confessed my first about three hundred sins ago.
(i’ll still need it where i’m going.)
you went from giving gum to people you’ve never thought about,
(trust me, it’s nothing!)
to trademark glares, meant to keep the thoughts out.
(don’ttalktomedon’ttalktomedon’ttalktome.)
it feels like there’s a watermark over everything you write.
it feels like your sense of sight
is far off.
(maybe it’s in california,)
it got pulled out.
(maybe it’s in pennsylvania,)
it rooted again elsewhere.
(maybe it’s in boston. maybe it’s always been boston. your whole life, it was boston. you never even knew.)
glassy-eyed stare,
(over water.)
now that’s some trademark glare!
(over ice. over easy. over and out. so over it.)
maybe in sophomore year you called a teacher by their first name,
and ran away when you got that trademark glare.
now it’s “hey douglas, guess who didn’t do their homework uh-gain?”
it’s a joke that y’all share.
you know you won’t remember so much.
you won’t remember the shoe squeaks, every last-minute print job.
you won’t remember the chicken nuggets, how much gum bubbles ****** you off during MCAS,
but you remember a glow.
i remember a warmth, so much.
i remember every time that i grew a little more “i can do it and i don’t know what it will be,”
even if i don’t have the words.
will you remember too?
i wrote on my arm once,
“it all feels so dissolved.
eyes are tired.
eyes are hopeful.
the growing up gets closer each day,
and we are moving on.”
all of this isn’t knowing you can fly.
it’s knowing you know how to try.
Madison 7d
I look at you

And I melt

Like strawberry ice cream

Dropped on a black buckle shoe.

(And you make me cry

Just the same.)
Today I was talking
to my friends 5 year old daughter
on the phone.

And she was telling me that
she turns 6 in a few months.

She went on to explain that
she doesn't want to be 6 years old.
So I asked her why....
she said
"I just don't wanna grow up I wanna be a kid, I wanna be 5 years old forever."

And I couldn't believe that at 5 years old she's already doing life right.
She already knows that 6 years old is harder than 5 years old and *** ****** she just wants to stay 5.

She knows growing up ***** and she wants no part of it.
She just wants to stay 5 forever.

And I just thought... "wow... same here."
JJ Inda Nov 7
How young is she?
Looks like twenty,
but could be sixteen.
Says things as if she's thirty,
but listens to music like she's not.
She's sensual, yet innocent.
Drives and drinks;
doesn't do a good job of either.
Dances freely like a child,
but worries about things
like a teenager.
I don't know her,
but I am intrigued by her innocence.
She says she wants to dance with me,
I tell her no
and leave.
Still a thought lingers,
how young is she?
Shifting, sand underfoot
and the moonlight bent
in reflected splendor, up from the
sea, and from the tresses
of your hair, black, in that time
of dreaming.

The stars,
innumerable in their glory,
wink down at
us gently as we walk, their
mysteries disregarded--
for in your eyes
lie the sum of
their light.
This is a draft I put together in 2016 and promptly forgot about. I've edited it some, but I'm pretty sure I've just polished it up a little, meaning intact. Figured its about time it got some air.
Omni Winters Oct 26
You're innocent like the people of Salem.
But you're Abigail Williams.
We can all be a Reverend Hale sometimes. It's human.
But you are the witch.

© 2018 Omni Winters
October 26, 2018
Sharon Oct 31
Remember when you were 6?
Spinning dizzy in the laughing sun?
I could play chasey till I doubled over,
Running, eating and laughing all at once!

Childhood gives way to "adult" realities.
Carefree running to silent, sober reflections.
That merry river.. now more often a motionless pond.

With a half-smile I wonder,
At the innocence which so freely played,
Thoughtless of harm.
Before such "adult" words like: fatal, divorce, disorder,
Ever applied to me.
Sometimes I find my feelings shut down. This morning I thought back to simpler times..
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