Your Name Jessica Jiang You meet me at the bottom of the stairs. You walk past me, The tree shadows over you Hands in pockets, head held low, I haven’t forgotten you, have you?
A tear slips on your tongue as you Say the words you’ve dreamt of, I Never forgot your name, have you? Your hair is bound up and you’ve Grown up now and I am no longer The fool I was back then so can you Find it in your heart to give us one more chance? I can hear our ghosts laughing as the train Gives me a glimpse of you and then it continues on, Leaving me an image of your happiness but I have Never forgotten how it felt to fall in love, have you? Sometimes I’m scared of the light Because I know you’ll be there waiting for me You tell me don’t be afraid but I’ve already fallen Please don’t come any closer, or I’ll fall into you If I watch the fireworks with you, Will you dream of a world of light or darkness when you sleep? Just promise me that when the last train comes You’ll lean your head against the window To watch the ever fading view and your reflection Will be my last glimpse of you, so can you smile? So even though you’re years away, I will be able to meet you halfway there
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Her Matters Grace Ye Yesterday, she recalls her eyes gazing out the classroom Towards the vast land of lights and mass of people Afloat, going here and there, she stands atop the roof Spinning doubt, still figuring it out
Falling on O’ weary A train travels Nodding off hums to a sea of mumble jumbles. She still peak at the pains and blemished face afraid Gazing into a selfie screen behind curtains of hair and cease Mocking those daily fought wars within dark under eye crescents I pray she’ll blossom into childish laughter set in mighty skies For that was all there really was; wonder. Be far Gone low some thoughts. To her young everythings. Wonderful, if each of their owns matter. Patches of gentle light spilled on waves to pointless chatter. Mirror, Mirror on my Wall
Irene Hao There it was: the mirror that haunts my dreams So silver and smooth just like paint. It gleams Chokes with the artificial smell of pigment Begging to be broken, but when I struck, no dent It was a parasite. And not even sleeping pills Could bring me to paradise, can’t see or stay still Wasn’t paralyzed, just terrified. Over and over The only truth: the glass grows clearer as I grow older Then one day, the mirror approached so near I saw a mirage, so crystal clear I saw what is was and cried so many tears Tears so silver and smooth, and a smell I couldn’t bear And so I became part of the thing that haunted my sleep, Parted this world, walked alongside the figure In silver, not black, the figure who reaps Echo
Luna You’re in my debt. I hope you stay blind. I can’t help but think, ‘You’re a mess.’ A thinly veiled threat Reminds me that I’m confined. Your wants and my needs not in sync, But the only word I can utter is yes. You’re dependent on me For a personality. Your self has been erased, Replaced. I want to flee, But I’m scared of your brutality. You stared at my happiness in distaste, So that part of me was replaced. Is hating you wrong? Watching you bawl, I know you’re a mistake. Everything I do is wrong. I collapse to the ground and bawl. I’m a pathetic mistake. You’re mine. I’m yours. A thought
Anonymous An imagination was a curse in a few ways. There were times when you were so wrapped in your dreams you can’t see reality, only a muddled and imperfect version of your ideals. Many times you create a story of love and friendship only for it to never happen. Hope you always build during these delusions breaks down from something as simple as the quiz you didn’t study for to the confession your crush will never witness. Creativity whirrs the brain into fantasies that are never realized and the sinking feeling of failure and bitter hopelessness are the only things left. Hopelessness Is...
Luna Hopelessness is blue For sadness, An overwhelming nostalgia. Hopelessness is white For surrender, A disappointing resignation. Hopelessness is black For emptiness, A cold void. Hopelessness is green For envy, A desire for others’ happiness. Hopelessness is yellow For caution, An unwillingness to try new things. Hopelessness is red For stress, An urgent sense of unknown danger. Hopelessness is gray For repetition, A lack of change. Ghosts
Blue Lemon They’re in love with a ghost town, the ruins of their dreams, shattered, glass shards beneath bare feet. With blue teens, drowning in nicotine and with too much on their mind. With the reflection of someone they’ve never met, raindrops on their skin, I’m in love with your ghost town |
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