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The Day After This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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I shouldn't have met your parents.
That's a dialogue that I'll recite to myself
until my mind becomes a symphony hall
and the echoing words are an orchestra in my soul.
But at this instant, I'm resistant to the facts
like how my mailbox isn't colorful enough or that
I have two too many tattoos for this neck of the woods.
Maybe it's my blackened lungs – the darkest thing you find out here.

And I'm too spent to implore metaphor
for any gratification, but I will assure this:
My heart still pounds with the crackle and
quake of waltzing flames and off-key
pulsations – just a friendly reminder that
light travels faster than sound.

And if my heartbeat were set to music,
the only language you really speak,
it would read quarter, quarter.
Rest.
Rest.
I don't think I could handle a full measure,
two at best? Not in this weather.

And truth is, I usually think this much, but
the cadence of conversation normally
overwhelms those silent sensations, however,
I'm not doing any talking. I mean we're kind of
just walking.

But those two rests have to be filled.

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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eyeswideshutThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 5, 2012 at 7:23 pm:
This is incredible!
 
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