i.
To stretch a heart, one must buy a textbook.
There is skin pulled taut and fresh
stomachs folded with printer cartridge filling,
the machinist lead of laminators, photocopiers,
a vacuum sealed memory
hot smoke of tears paper cut blood
ii.
All my dreams are the colours of flashcards.
boiled pink like spat chewing gum on pavement,
heel ground in mint green, jealousy eyed
veiled in surprise at a shaded box, meaning success. Butter yellow,
a summer so sought after it lies down with us every night
and whispers so soft, so sombre
iii.
What is a student if not a vessel? Plunged into the deep and cold
armed with limbs for running through mileless knowledge
for this break, this heartless venture
thrown against the heat death of a ticking clock,
To break a heart, another must pick up the stone
and throw
Olivia Burgess is a 17 year old raised and residing in the UK. Her poetry focuses on nature, love, her muse (who shall remain unnamed) and her internal dialogues. She has a smattering of publishings, from a short story chapbook to Paper Crane Journal, with forthcoming work in Ice Lolly Review and Cathartic Literary. When she's not unleashing her words, she fancies herself a bit of a good cook and constantly listening to music. You can find more on her Instagram @light.green_eyes