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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I feel you slip away. Like a Popsicle on a summer day. Through my fingers, You drip. Drip. It starts with the returning of items. First, My Apples to Apples game. Then, even crueler, My copy of Mean Girls. But when you return my tattered Wuthering Heights, I know you're melting. D...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Ironically, he was born in the summer. His lips were made of icicles. They weren’t carved And they didn’t look like Panda Bears Or other cuddly entities. Just cold. And bear. (Pun intended). His hair was like snow. My footprints left a path. What was underneath Remains unknown. ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We were born into movies and late night Icee trips At our local Texaco. The cashier lady knew both of our names By heart And smiled and said “To be young.” I laughed all the way down Merriman Because I thought you were funny. And you laughed, Because I laughed. We found ourse...

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