When did these arms
intricate, glass castle arms that
could be the subtle warmth in the
dark-water lake of a heart as the
light bounces from one pane
to the next,
become what they are?
Cold stranger arms, icy boulders
in the wake of a smile that isn't real.
When did I become the foreigner?
When did I become the alien,
undoing the strings that made our
bed together?
intricate, glass castle arms that
could be the subtle warmth in the
dark-water lake of a heart as the
light bounces from one pane
to the next,
become what they are?
Cold stranger arms, icy boulders
in the wake of a smile that isn't real.
When did I become the foreigner?
When did I become the alien,
undoing the strings that made our
bed together?
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
mugsy27
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