1. |
A Name That Wasn't Yours
05:16
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The clouds weren’t out. The sun was hot. I redid my fraying laces that were coming undone. I continued staring at my feet—timetotime glancing at the shawl that was placed over your body. Your father spoke with a monotone and your mother couldn’t make it out. But the Card said that she would miss you. They moved the sheet—I nearly cried when I saw that they put you in the Dress I knew you tried to burn.
No one was supposed to come home that night, yet he pulled in as you failed to light a Match out in the pouring rain. Your father roared in that booming voice, and your mother said she had no choice but to catch the quickest flight.
We gathered round the empty hole. I saw, engraved into your headstone, a Name that wasn’t yours. And something tightened round my neck as I met with your father’s eyes that were completely Dry.
We placed you down and we bid farewell. My keys in hand. My shoes untied. We should have run away—
Just like we talked about that night in my bedroom, under cheap blacklight. Man, our palms were shining Purple. Your head nestled under my chin and my breath reeked of my father’s gin when I whispered your real Name.
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2. |
Red Rothko
03:22
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Closed eyes. Clenched Teeth. A sob that forms in your throat, stifled. Lips sewn tight with skin-tone thread. Fresh-cleaned Bed Sheets assault olfactory nerves. Secret Laundry and paintings that were done in the shed.
Swiss flags. Cold baths. A Red Rothko on your wall. Short sleeves showing you’re holding up just Fine. Weak thighs. First prize. You cry the whole ride home. Relapse. Warm bath. Stained Linoleum shine.
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Sam Oxford Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
(They/them)
Dreamy crescendocore for the genderqueer sadsack.
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