Day Three Hundred and Fifty-Three.


Today’s theme: blunt.

Izzy circle


I was the only weapon you used against me.

Us, standing and breathing and breathing
in a dark room somewhere or maybe a closet

seven minutes of heaven held taut
eleven finger marks punctuate my spine
never never never close your eyes when they turn out the light

three years of crushed glass under my fingernails
of dirt in my eyelashes
throwing stones and cigarette butts to the cobbles
from my gaslit balcony

I was the only weapon you used.


Sarah circle


We were the taste of butter menthol and weed and Doritos corn chips with extra cheese.
We were the forty-minute laughing fits, crying and kissing and giving up before we came.
We were the video games clocked without walkthroughs and the cheat codes we wrote on the crooks of our arms.
We were the nights spent huddled in corners, afraid of the morning and the homework we had.
We were the red eyes and dry mouths and hatred that bled to our parents and sisters and dogs.
We were the silence at the end of a movie, brains churning for words to fill in the space.
We were the solemn goodbyes in the carpark, and the faces obscured by the unending haze.



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