red popsicle in the sun

red popsicle in the sun

marble stairs,

grassy quad,

classes sit in circles

leisurely learning in the sun.

I walk past

licking my red ice,

strawberry lemonade,

yum!

My lips are red

from its cold kiss,

painting my smile strawberry.

Alas, now it is done,

but my quiet enjoyment of

such a simple sweet treat remains.

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warm weather

warm weather

all the girls

with their long skirts

colorful clothes

blowing in the spring breeze.

bright spring,

dark in my room.

she is sad,

won’t let in the light,

wants to go home to

the sunnier place that she calls home.

It will end soon.

I’ll be able to open my windows,

turn on the lights soon.

all the girls with their smooth legs

hidden under their long skirts

blowing in the quiet breeze of spring,

while walking to class in a hurry.

wishful think [part one of many]

wishful think [part one of many]

once again,

man in my bed last night.

but unlike before

in every other way,

Including the man himself.

So why am I writing a poem about him?

Maybe it’s because I wish this poem was about

doing the dangerous dance?

This man just sleeps in my bed,

eyes closed, breathing slow,

laying beside me.

Our feet are tangled,

but that’s the only thing.

Warm hugs,

movie marathons with friends,

and a warm body in my bed.

My, oh my,

How different was last night.

Yet,

I find myself wishing

that I was writing about waking up,

awkward smiles,

and warm hands caressing my tense shoulder blades.

But maybe in time,

I will.