“The Outlaw” and other poems

The Outlaw

milk wavering on the raised bow of your mouth, invading, staining,
delectable and taunting

a perfect host to your smirk
a silent laugh, devious and treacherous
yet, we’re all enamored

the moon chases the sun as you lead me, vulnerable and naïve, out into the unforgiving heat
a kind of heat that swells and bursts
incarcerating me in your game

won’t i humbly wear that chain around my ankle
i’ll post my bail and serve my time

and will it be worth it to see you when you reclaim my freedom
it will be worth it when you’re free to watch as we fall to our demise under your reign

The Vase

you were made of glass when I knew you,
fragile, yet stark

when you touched me, your fingertips speared my neck,
and lacerated my arms and waist,
leaving impressions of your effect on me

my open sores, my scars,
they’re still calling out to you,
waiting for some kind of relief

someone left you on my doorstep one day,
wrapped up all nice and delicate
a beautiful vase, a perfect ornament,

no one anticipated your capabilities

my body will not be a background to emphasize your beauty
my body is a home
my body is not a shelf for you to visit every now and then
my body is a home



The wind is loud and ravenous outside
yet you find yourself opening the latch to the door,
you’re outside now and you can feel the brutality of the world seeping
into your bones
you can sense the chaos and the uncertainty in everyone’s gazes

it’s a quiet riot
the wind finds you sometimes and tries to console
your tremoring hands
and there are times you will pull yourself out of its gravitation because
it’s not every day you can feel yourself responding to the universe as something other than human
sometimes you like to feel alive and then
sometimes you just want to feel the indifference of a bruised leaf


We Only Communicate Through Buildings Now

we are no longer affixed in space
now we are merely two structures

sometimes, we meet halfway when the tectonic plates shift in motion,
though we never touch

we stand two silent pillars of gravel, adjacent to one another
meaningful words etched upon our walls

we only communicate through buildings now


♦About the Author

Lyndsey is a 21 year old aspiring writer from South Florida. Lyndsey writes poetry about LGBTQ love, growth and trauma and hopes to one day become an acquisition editor.

♦Pocket Full of Poesy

Pocket Full of Poesy is a column in which we publish your poetry! If you’d like to submit your work, please contact us.

Our poetry and ficiton contributors work hard, if you read their work, let them know what you think, leave a comment and make their day!

Illustrations by Alice Lesperance

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