a collection of words
by sedona snyder

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Table of Contents

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1. Yellow
2. Driving with my brother
3. Pretty Girls Have No Fun
4. I Would Much Rather Wake To You

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Acknowledgments

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For you :)

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Yellow
 

someday,
when the sky is bluer,
the birds sing their songs,
annoyingly, and right outside my window,
i hope to see you there. 

something that i have held on to,
kept in my pockets kept out of the rain,
kept in my weathered hands,
clasped tight together,
holding you in between my palms,
rubbing into a frictional warmth,
welding like wielded swords coming together,
fusing into one but two.

No more falling buildings,
Crumbing with blame,
And shame and harm,
As the ones i grew up under.
Mistrusting meetings,
Moments and memories,
Fusing into fear of falling,
Into a future alone,
Of, of.. 

i take a deep breath and settle
my head between my hands,
and look across this warm
and hazy and yellow space,
and I know we've made it. 

Driving with my brother

Like a skin-smooth pale lion, my eyes stalk the numbers on the dash,
As they tick upwards. 
Fifty, sixty,
The painted dry brushstrokes of the world whirring by at an impossible speed.
Seventy, eighty,
My head pounds, a not-so soft mix of the blaring booming bass,
One-ten, one twenty. 

Cheshire, he grins a toothy sadistic grin, cheeks folding into his eyes,
Ears.
He pushes the pedal harder, enchanting it into his will,
A dusty feathery sound erupts from my ears, the sound of hair burning,
Flashily facing the final fate in front.
Maybe, this is how,
An angel is born. 

Pretty Girls Have No Fun

i sit, still as a stone, waiting for the final act.
my eyes glisten with love, goopy hearts drop down from my sockets,
sweet pretty perfect porcelain face, blooming and cracked. 

his dark lies, compared to raised fists, face false fact.
my pretty perfect poise falling fast, like sand from my pockets,
i sit, still as a stone, waiting for the final act.


i pad across the wooden floors, pressing into the walls, feeling tracked,
openremember close fade away, our smiling time trapped in lockets.
sweet pretty perfect porcelain face, blooming and cracked.

whispered I love you’s in the thick dark, a sickly sweet pact.
whisked away, left behind your curled fists, crumpled, stupid lovey dovey pickpockets.
i sit, still as a stone, waiting for the final act.

Your Words, charged fears, hate behind punches packed,
sticky hot, red tears, slide down my cheeks like shiny red rockets.
sweet pretty perfect porcelain face, blooming and cracked. 

such trust, sweet words, soured by what lacked,
false hope, false love, false safe, skyrockets.
i sit, still as a stone, waiting for the final act.
sweet pretty perfect porcelain face, blooming and cracked. 

I Would Much Rather Wake To You

I would rather wake up here,
golden sun streaming
In, than in the rain. 

The 
ceiling fan pushing
the cold from one corner of
my room to another. 

I know
what I can’t have. 

So I take you
home with me, enough happy memories
stuffed into my pockets
to last me through the night,
until I wake to
you again.