yes my stomach was churning not a crush it was
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.