do you derive pleasure from taunting me
like this? you play at tangibility
an apparition only i can see
gold glistening at every rainbow’s end
are your gifts only meant to be bestowed
on those who boast a bright fluorescent glow?
my neon nights gave way to earthy tones
some time ago (my aura turned amber)
“blood sister” i implore with every rhyme
”don’t make me cut my palms for ink this time”
you insist that i’m no good otherwise
internalizing it comes easy but
your crown of thorns keeps scraping up my thighs
i think it’s time we find a compromise
Stacy Cremer is a seventeen year old poet from Central Pennsylvania. She enjoys the soft glow of gas stations at night and petting long-nosed dogs. This is her first published poem.