---

this is poetry
about leaving childhood.
it makes me wonder

why you think we can
fit adolescence
into set stanzas.

when i was a child,
i picked poetry out of
the skies like ripe fruits,

and fermented lyrics
to squash between my toes like
grapes so I could make

the best out of my
experiences as a
tiny pugilist.

#15 - Waiting on a Blue Moon

last night,
I saw your half-moon smile
break out through the clouds,
and it still hurts to say
that the lunar lady
has not yet graced us
twice this month

5

I am sold. The sparse words
you exchange with me like currency
turn me into a beggar; starving for pennies
you drop carelessly into my upturned palms
cracked with your frigid bitterness.

4

My skin has worn itself paper thin
pining for you, and the edges are frayed.

I am done being parchment,
because you made our love biodegradable.

There are chains made out of cardboard that wrap around my legs
the same way you begged me not to stay because I weaken you.