THE PERVERSIONS OF QUIET GIRLS ~BY ANGELINA ROLSTON
I’m an orange,
But if I can’t juice — will you throw me out?
I’m an orange,
But if I can’t juice — will you throw me out?
Fly, fly,
Blackbird.
I don’t know what you’ve seen nor heard,
But I know it hurt.
Just another day waking up alone—
No one blowing up my brand new phone
He clings to his rusty wheelchair,
As he clings to his dirty brushes.
A rose will bloom,
A child is born,
While they leave their mother’s womb.
As you inhaled your final breath,
no longer clinging to health,
you spoke a vivid memory of me
Do you remember me from your dreams?
Silent grips on the back of your neck
Once I was the quiet flame,
Burning for a name never called.
Who would have thought, he would be a fallen knight,