|
a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
|
|
a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
|
![]() for the longest time, the years after i left us things changed: the sweets jar was always empty. hollow. it was a curse--every candy i tried would taste like headlights that evening in the backseats of your run-down car
we broke into crushed sugar, condensed at all the sweetest places-- your smile, fingertips, ecstasy, my ghost like hourglass sand through a narrow tunnel your nails slit open powdered flesh the past and present remained still until one overflowed into the other--i met you: sculpting candy with knife-like teeth, you dragged the lollipop across my closed lips scraping with shards of broken headlights as our moonlit nights slowly slipped away like this one: back of your car, tasted timeless scars, you tell me it’s okay-- lollipop bits stuck to the back of my throat and sticky under my tongue like sand after every grain has passed through the hourglass neck, will there ever be another us? the sweet blood i crave searching through an hourglass; our glass somehow my lips ended up etched in shards pressed tightly against the side of your neck i fed on your blood trickling into my scars intoxicated from the sugar on your lips slowly, i sank, like metal keys in honey into oceans of starlight, sickly sweet they became mists of heavy dreams seeping into scars until we were but-- your fingertips poisonous to my skin like headlights waiting to break. and that was why, even after a forever every piece of candy would remind me of: one, a taste no artificial sweets could match two, a story ending with broken headlights three, the hourglass on your bedroom shelf, and four, you; Comments are closed.
|
Categories
All
* = Editors' Choice work
Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
|