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.
