Poetry For People / Mine and Stevie’s
Have a few things; working on; like everyone. No titles. I just never got into the habit. Maybe it will come to me after it’s out. Remember, be kind.
Cotton gray in a humid yellow room.
Denim blue crumpled in a brown corner.
Green eyes flashing, staring into the smoke of my own.
Tan against peach; skin slick with exertion; fine hairs bristling.
Pink scar that traces down the side of your body.
Loved you.
The colors we made stay much clearer than anything else;
All I recall, thinking of you now:
Silver and red, serene and raging.
Your black fury and my wishy-washy white.
Gold, gold, gold.
Bright and shining, gleaming chrome.
Individual hues that never bled into each other.
Started missing you.
Hazy and flat;
Metal days and copper veins, spilled onto the floor.
I hate to remember now since no box is big enough to hold all that we created.
Except there is no creation.
No crayon is colored deep enough
to survive in the heat of the sun.
After reading some of the things I wrote, my daughter gave it a go. I think it’s pretty good. She’s 10. No title. Here it is:
As well as you know me
Like the sky is blue
The air is fresh
And death is right around the corner
You and I will always be connected.
—Stevie F.
just shy of pretty 
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