Jotting down my soul in blue eyeliner
as i gag and dry-heave emotion
on the backs of cheap paper placemats
only then do i recall
that my fuchsia-tipped fingers
were formed by the same hands
that sculpted the broad mysterious curves
of the ocean
and conducted the very first
symphony of
night.
as i gag and dry-heave emotion
on the backs of cheap paper placemats
only then do i recall
that my fuchsia-tipped fingers
were formed by the same hands
that sculpted the broad mysterious curves
of the ocean
and conducted the very first
symphony of
night.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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