Poetry & Art

it rains when he wants to hold me

sex and moths in the backseat

passenger’s side stained with bad coffee

lightless miles

blowing smoke into my glittery lips and i cried

as the cigarette passed secrets between our mouths

i listened to you for so long i had stopped noticing the river

we never eat when we’re together

and you never talk about your family

citrus breath, tangerine pocket

it rained for so long the water on the windshield began to look like oils

it rains when he wants to hold me

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by Nicole Estelle

A poet dwelling in Oregon, taking film photos of friends and making coffee. An admirer of anything that provokes hope.

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