yes my stomach was churning not a crush it was

confusion

you loved me I couldn’t see like you (I still can’t see why)

I’m not an angel not a saint so why am I your girl?

stay here with my cups of ambition and

try not to fall

I remember the first time you kissed me, leaving a

pink lipstick mark I rubbed off with a cupped hand

full of water.

I didn’t want your print didn’t want it didn’t want you

at least not the way you wanted me

to chase away your hallucinogenic baby ghosts

did you leave because I couldn’t see like you did?

I could’ve failed you and never known and

that’s what haunts me the most like you’re

haunted by whatever (I truly don’t remember)


Moira Armstrong is a junior at Howland High School, where she enjoys stressing over honors classes and extracurriculars. Her favorite is the speech and debate team, where she competes in original oratory and serves as president. In her very limited free time, she likes to volunteer, color, and, of course, write. Her work has also been published in the Power of the Pen Book of Winners, two Creative Communications Poetry Collections, and Blue Marble Review.

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