Gift
By Selina Dai yest erd a y m y crush gave me a beautiful gift box t in h h si a a de d t it a tantalizing feeling r a a t th t e b f h r e s e e a a l w k i g n
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Bliss By Misaal Tabassum The clouds begin to collect overhead, as the wind begins to grow colder. I know this means the first snowflakes will soon appear. With snowflakes comes joy- the most wonderful time of the year. I anticipate the jingling bells and the hot chocolate and the cozy slippers and everything good and pure in the world that is to come. It seems as if the trials and tribulations of the previous year have all paid off when the first snowflakes fall. They make me think of family and friends and warmth and joy. Of going home and finally resting with few worries about the world, in a cozy blanket by the fireplace. Delicate snowflakes begin to fall, one by one. Each one crucial to creating the beautiful scene I will admire outside my window the next morning. It is perfect. I rejoice, for winter is here. The holidays are here. Utter bliss. Your breath fogs the window -
it's covered in dewdrops, reflecting the green light that had just turned yellow, now red. The wind blows cold, long, breaths. hyperventilation in a red car, hands pale and clenched on a steering wheel. The road is empty, and you wish the world was, too. Your mind is not; it is foggy, covered in dewdrops, filled with red and angry thoughts. You hold your breath until the light is green again, and the only sound that could be heard is the screech of your tires. Your car is denser than the air, and your mind is denser than your body, so your trojan horse is drowning. Dear
Lamia Haque dear Everybody dear people dear family dear friends dear those who look up at me and those who look down dear the ones who pass by me in the hallways locking eyes but never saying a word dear everyone who’s said but never done and dear anyone who’s been close but far do you ever notice the pain in someone’s eyes or really listen to what they say do you understand do you try to understand do you stand still do you try to stop it no you pass by without saying a word you’re the one who’s close but far the one who does not try to understand the one who looks down the one who causes the pain and never the one to speak You Are
Selina Dai You are air, So vital it’s unfair. You are air, Invisible and never there. You are snow, Beautiful with a glow. You are snow, Using cold insults as ammo. You are fire, Someone to admire. You are fire, Filling me with ire. You are life, Filling me with strife. You are life, Stabbing me with a knife. You are a liar, No one to desire. You are a liar, Pretending to be a crier. You are fake, And I am tired. I say goodbye To this lie of ours. I miss you
Emma Donnelly I miss you. Uncontainable laughter tickling every muscle in my stomach Our squeaky howls diffusing out of every window in our brick apartment complex Shiny, black walkie-talkies stuttering under white linen sheets Chocolate syrup drip, dropping onto wooden floors, powdered sugar melting on our mischievous tongues We didn’t care. Now My joints are cold as ice, frozen in a time I wish I could dissolve with an eraser Strangers panting as they haul brown cardboard boxes up to the fourth floor Lithium triple AAAs nowhere in sight Puddles linger on the ground. No one bothers to clean them up. Beracah Tries to Make Two Clocks Tick at the Same Time
Beracah Lam ka-Chunk! Tik-tik, tok-tok, tik-tik, tok-tok. Still the same. ka-Junk! tikTik, tokTok, tikTik, tokTok Almost. kjnk! Ttik, ttok, ttik, ttok, ttik, ttok Close enough. Changes
Rui Zheng leaves orange and yellow flutter to the ground. the wind rustles the leaves, blowing them towards me. orange and yellow — happy colors, but i only feel an overwhelming sense of regret. for all the things i could have done before things changed. i see the sky getting dark and i head home. The metal glints in the air as it is raised,
And it goes down. It has traveled through so many terrains Sank itself, under someone’s hand, into canvasses Of white, brown, the whole array They must stab multiple times Holes appear, which can never be healed Red issues forth, flies a little up Until it finds a place to land Small dots appear, a little raised, like flowers The face that belongs to the hand smiles Holds out their work, asks if we can see The message of love they made There are swooping lines, dots like flowers Can you see? There are leaves falling to the ground There is warmth in the creation There is a pumpkin, the one you carved for Halloween They laugh, a twinkle in their eye “Do you like the quilt, dear?” A Little Something from the Embroiderer |
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