By Joliette Doyle

can we talk?
spread atop my childhood floor,
dazed with the smell of lost youth. 
can we talk?
spines against the cold floorboards,
our unfocused eyes fogged with memory. 
let us lie down
and stare. 
perhaps, 
the faded ceiling stars
may glow in the dark once more. 
can we talk?
and wake with stiff backs and 
headaches. we stand up —
and i am grown again.

–

J.A.F. (she/they/he) is always looking to improve his artistic abilities in any way he can. She practices classical vocal performance, fiction writing, media commentary and analysis, and poetry.