Your Roof Is Not Leaking by Adelina Kelley
Sweet symphonies and drowned pine branches,
Beneath an angry,
sorrowful sky.
Your feet adorned in flimsy sneakers,
You walk,
the weight of tears dragging you down.
But still when I ask,
you say you feel
free,
free,
free!
How odd, I find it.
When the same tears pull at me,
yet I feel like rocks have been tied to me,
and I have been cast overboard to sink.
Curious, I find it.
And so my eyes are full of baby's breath,
lamb's ear.
As I can't fathom a pair of clothes that are dry in this weather.
But yours are cold,
slick,
they are not dry at all.
But when I peer inside a warmly lit,
quaint sanctuary to hide us from the rain,
I spy a resemblance.
Pitter-patter,
pitter-patter,
on the metal roof.
Yet,
the light
drip,
drop,
drip,
drop,
of wet on the woven indoor rug is absent.
This Shadow Is in the Shape of Someone You Love by Adelina Kelley
Moonbeams are mixed with messy unfiltered dialogue
The freedom to speak of the ugliest pieces of myself,
that cling to my words like a shadow in the mid-afternoon sun.
You let them be known, seen by someone other.
But not shunned, hated.
They bubble up, the sea in a storm, you listen to the waves as they crash.
It blinds with salty sea spray,
but reminds of sweaty skin from the heat of cicada summer;
The shadow from the mid-afternoon sun, that is in the shape of someone you love.