One-hundred and Sixty-seven: Cry

Shh, don’t tell anybody I’m here.
I want to fold into my blankets,
spread into the creases, and wait
for you. I want to cover you completely.

Outside, lemons fall. They plop
to the ground in a way my chin
cannot, though my eyes sway
beneath the weight of tears.
It’s funny, this, it’s funny,

that I can cry because I am stronger now.

May

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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