Creative Writing

Poem: Have we met before?

Short, dark hair frames your delicate, round face. This blunt cut makes you look strong, like you know what you want. I wish I knew what I wanted. I feel like I know you  but I cannot say how. You wax and wane, ever changing yet constant, somehow. Unlike the ones who beg for attention,…
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January 14, 2021

Short, dark hair frames your delicate, round face.

This blunt cut makes you look strong,

like you know what you want.

I wish I knew what I wanted.

I feel like I know you 

but I cannot say how.

You wax and wane,

ever changing yet constant, somehow.

Unlike the ones who beg for attention,

you demand to be seen.

You wear your clothes for yourself,

dispelling rules 

established by those who came before.

The soles of your feet are filthy with grime,

but you are unconcerned. 

I feel like I’ve met you in a dream,

you are so familiar to me.

Poem: To My Target Panic

Poem: To My Target Panic

I remember the first time I met you, the first Sunday of September. Before we met, archery was predictable; my routine was reliable. The weight of my quiver, the resistance of my string, the curve of my limbs, and Sunday morning practice, it was always the same. But...