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Soft This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Suddenly I feel with a nauseating ache
the two hundred and forty-seven times
that the sun has signed a path across the sky
since I last could see you.
By some sort of magic - your genius and my luck -
I’m behind the wheel of a car that’s not ours;
you’re taking me home at 90 miles per hour.
Even so,
not all of the force I apply to the gas translates into speed.
I desperately want everything outside to blur softly.
This car is so constricting.
The seats are so inhibiting.
I hate being held in place.
Expressions checked by seat belts.
Emotions checked by distance and time apart.
Frustration of empty swings in a batting cage,
like thick wisps of cotton, clouds my thoughts.
I’m helpless, speechless and compulsively switching lanes
as everything inside me blurs softly.



This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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