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Dec 2nd This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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You don't write about cigarettes or the sky you saw driving home from work
You just can't. You slip me a note about how the washing machine rattles and reminds me of a song I showed you
I bite the inside of my cheek till it bleeds and kiss the outside of yours till it does
the same
Your stained-glass eyes tell me it's all in
my head and I bury my face in your neck
I came home and ate an orange without
peeling it and stared at my reflection
Sweet and bitter simultaneously, I
swallowed and sighed

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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