Projection

By Nicole Spangler

You told me you loved poetry. Stilted and sharp, staccato across the page. I obliged, corners and pages spilling over my shirt sleeves until I couldn’t tell where they ended and I began. I’d approach you later with a sore tongue, trying to smash your love into my obsession like they belonged together. In September you left for Grad school and I tried to give you poems that reminded me of you. There was a brief flicker in your eyes the moment I handed it to you, and it was there I realized you never liked poetry to begin with.

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Nicole writes because she has too many thoughts and too much free time.