Julia Alexander Poetry

between the flick of the light and the start of the dream

i. the camera is sitting in the back of your closet, untouched, waiting for the spark that allows the creature to animate. ii. i grab the railing on the bus, knowing i shouldn’t be here, holding onto the hope that no one else will notice. iii. i could have left a hundred time already. i could have if i wanted to, if i needed to. i could have if you hadn’t let your anchor drop into the depths until it scraped along the bottom. iv. being stuck is not the same as being rooted. being rooted is not the same as having your wings clipped. being rooted is not the same as sprouting. v. in the middle of the night, the light from the hallway glows behind your bare shoulder. i try to sleep, but only dream of the world crumbling down around us, only dream of your lips discovering an untouched fold of skin.

it’s my first day of school i got here way too early but i talked to a person and don’t feel as nervous 

i never post anything here anymore so here are some semester highlights

look how cute i was yesterday