thank you to All Too Well for being the perfect prompt :)

Also, thank you riptide2406 for the "Golden" prompt

Alex folded the letter and did the only thing he could do:

    Sit on the floor while listening to sad music and reading Emily Dickinson.

    Well, that was the plan until he realized he hadn't listened to All Too Well, any version, by Taylor Swift.

    Apparently, that was the sad song.

    He decided to make himself suffer more by listening to the 10-minute version.

    It didn't exactly help his situation.

    Mainly because he began to remember more as he listened to the song. Now he's heard the music precisely 52 times, and it's 11 pm. He's lying on the floor sobbing his guts out, trying so hard not to make a sound.

    It was precisely like Adrian, which makes Alex the Taylor Swift, and his dead boyfriend was Jake Gyllenhaal.

    But that was what Alex was looking for, wasn't it?

    He was looking for that confirmation that Adrian was 3 years older than him.

    That may not sound like a lot, but that's a 6th grader dating an 8th grader. Those relationships are so obviously abusive.

    But he was still listening to the song, now for the 53rd time, and Taylor said, "If we'd been closer in age, maybe it would have been fine."

    That broke him again because those were his words when Adrian broke up with him the first time.

    And yet, Alex fought to get him back, and it worked, and when he went to Adrian's sister's house, he'd left a scarf there.

    He's sure it's still in one of those drawers, even now.

    Adrian talked with his sweet disposition and Alex's wide-eyed gaze on the way home. They ended up singing in the car, getting lost upstate. Adrian ran the red in that small town street because he looked at Alex.

    And Alex remembered it all too well.

    Alex remembered once when they were skipping town thinking, he'll call it was it is. He never did. Alex never brought it up.

    But Alex would always forget about it when they danced in the kitchen under the refrigerator light. Alex doubted his parents knew.

    Adrian kept Alex a secret, but Alex kept him like an oath.

    Alex wanted it to be lost in translation. That never really happened because he was there, and he remembered it all too well. But did he really remember correctly?

    He ended up falling asleep to his sobbing as he realized he did not, in fact, remember correctly.

-

Nico was blasting Golden as he put on a sports bra, which was too tight. But that was all he had since the binder had yet to arrive.

    Hopefully, the weather would cooperate with Nico and stay cool and allow him to be comfortable in an oversized sweater.

    Surprisingly, Nico wasn't scared; he was out of his head.

    Will, who met Nico on the second stop on the L-train, was scared.

    Who could blame him, really? Hearts get broken.

    Still, it didn't stop Nico from thinking, You're so golden.

    Nico didn't know that Will was thinking the same.

-

    Will opened his eyes, seeing gold. He told himself to hold it, focus, as he stared at the light.

    Will knew Nico was way too bright for him. Will was hopeless, broken. But he's so golden.

    And Will's in his head, and he's fucking scared because hearts get broken.

    But Will didn't want to be alone. Then he felt Nico take hold of his hand, and he felt Nico gain control. Will guessed loving him was the antidote.

    They ended up going to Inge's coffeehouse. They had brunch in the mornings, and it was a Sunday, so that meant discounted rates. That was great for Will's broke ass.

    They left quickly, drunk on coffee and orange juice with stomachs filled with rich and fluffy pancakes.

    Instead of going home, Nico got in his car because rich people have those things in New York. Will sat in the passenger's seat.

    "That was so fucking good," Nico said as he sagged into his seat.

    "Right?"

    Nico gazed up at Will and the stupidly enamored smile on his lips and whispered, "You're so golden."

    After asking for consent, Will leaned in, lightly pressing his stupid smile onto Nico's.

-

Jaz was unfortunate enough to have SAT prep every Monday morning for an hour just before school started.

    Thankfully, SAT prep was canceled!

    Unfortunately, they did not tell this to Jaz until 15 minutes after the meeting should have started.

    So, she sat by her locker, listening to Asystole with lined paper in hand. She needed to do something to pass the time.

    Now, what to write a poem about? Oh, yes, the lady in the apartment above me. She had a son and went to church every Sunday. Or perhaps the boy who went to church wondering why God hated him... or both.

    Yes, her Moroccan heritage, and being gay, and immigration, and arabophobia--no, make this hit harder, islamophobia.

    She wrote for about 20 minutes, perfectly in the zone. The poem was good; it could win a contest. She wanted to show her parents.

    Her parents would fucking kill her if they found out she still wrote poetry.

    Mr. Blofis would not stand for such a thing.

    "There is a contest," he said at the beginning of the 5th period. "on the written word. If you win at a school level, you compete in the county. If you succeed in the county, you get a 10,000 dollar scholarship to any college in New York and move on to state. If you win at state, you get a full ride for 2 semesters due to a writing scholarship at a college in New York. Any type of writing can compete, so long as it fits the prompt: What do you observe in America?

    "See me after class if you are interested."

    Jaz was interested; she needed to turn the poem to Ms. Chau by Friday.

    There are only 14 people able to compete school-wide, the best in each class period. They will read the poem in an assembly that Monday and receive an invitation via parent email that Sunday.

    There will be guest judges coming in. They will decide to get's to compete county-wide.

    When she got to Mr. A's class, he needed to finish grading the assignments submitted by Theatre 1 on the history of Theatre. It was an absolutely dreadful unit; Jaz remembered it all too well.

    So, she sidled up next to Sadie, who wrapped her arm around her, still talking to Shel. Then Jaz passed over the paper she was holding. "You two let me know if you have anything to add."

A poem for...:

I want to write a poem for the people like me,
Who is the perfect blend
Of white and brown.
With blond hair and blue eyes like my father,
But the features of my mother,
With my Moroccan nose and mouth.

I want to write a poem to Moroccans
With their vibrant culture,
And fast vibratos with
Perfect trills
Made with the voices of
Perfect and vibrant
Men and Women

I want to write a poem for the woman
In the apartment above me.
You see, her boyfriend cheated
And left her the baby.
She prays every day,
Going to church every Sunday,
Trying to make life work
For her little boy.

I want to write a poem to the boy
at the church.
He's in a confessional,
Wondering why God hates him
Just for being gay.

I want to write a poem for the gay people of color
Who have to listen to whites
With their fake understanding of race
As they continue to say
That being gay
Is the same as being Muslim.

I want to write a poem to the Muslim poets
Who are in a poetry slam
Speaking of their struggles.
But it's Eid,
And instead of
Spending time with them,
They spend the holiest day
Defending their families.

I want to write a poem about that family
Who came to the American Dream "illegally"
To save themselves from the war.
They got deported
And they wonder if their children
Miss them.

I want to write a poem for the children
Who are grieving the loss of their parents,
As they sit in a cage,
Waiting for them to come back,
And are forced to watch as the people say
Good riddance.

I want to write a poem to the people
Who watch as the world decays
And the generations before
Call them lazy,
Trying to erase
Their accomplishments.

I want to write a poem for the people
Who are expected to be erased,
And instead of sitting back
With their heads down,
They stand right back up,
Head high and proud.
They say, "Get out of my way
I got shit to do today."

what's up my violation beans!

you guys liked my last poem, so I was like, okay lemme write another one

also, I was crying to All Too Well this morning, so you guys get to suffer with me

It's another short chapter, also half-assed.

I wrote the poem a few hour ago and was like, may as well write a chapter with it

Lmk what you think because I think I'm going to keep writing poetry

anyway

i'm tired so i'm gonna go to sleep and then get a wave of notifications in the morning!

love y'all!