How many more days
till I can call you mine?
I wait
as the moon hangs in the sky,
a bloated orb that fills my eyes,
a waning splinter in my heart.
And I wait
as the sun burns the east.
The hard stars regard me
with cold detachment,
and mock my solitude
as the Spam rots in its
tamper-proof case.
But where are you,
oh, serpent of my seas?
I die a little more each day without you,
as the sun burns and burns,
and the Spam turns green
with shared despair.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.


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