pastel please This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

September 23, 2015

Pastel suicides
taste like iron and rubber.
Where the shrapnel lands,
flowers will not grow;
they will die and wither away.
Where glass shatters,
other people will find shards
in the bottoms of their feet.
When the phone rings,
no one will answer.
When the phone rings a second time,
music will not play.
Zoom out of the movie,
take away the cameras,
I am sorry that I began writing the script.
There is no such thing as a pastel suicide,
only a vacuum
and nothing.

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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