I wanted the ghostliness of Fall,

the thrill of fresh masks

and hard candy


I wanted the romance of arguing,

the depression of school nights

and dim lamp lights


I wanted the abuse of painful side affects,

the fascination of my shadow

within a crowd,

the excitement of loneliness


I wanted the pleasure of demons,

the euphoria of erotic bonding,

the exhaustion of sadness


I wanted the love of parents,

the horror of sour nails,

the joy of intentionally sore skin


I wanted the relief of exhaling,

the weakness of flu season,

the peace of floating away


I fell asleep on black hair

and woke up inside a blonde tea pot

I was served to the earth unsweetened,

every ounce of me disgusting


by Ashlie Allen


Ashlie Allen writes fiction and poetry. She is also a photographer. Her work has appeared in the Tipton Poetry Journal, Gone Lawn, Spelk and others. She loves the Victorian era.


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