Northern_Lights_2019

10 After My Own Heart By ShyAnn Springer He sends me smiles and writes me literature He teases me with light touches and syrupy words He buys me sugar and my time I don’t mind A man after my own heart He says not to forget him while I become a scholar He dresses me in his shirts and scent He says I’m worth the distance I don’t mind A man after my own heart He leaves my words hanging in air He consumes my thoughts He says sorry with serpentine prayers I don’t mind A man after my own heart He disguises me with someone else He tells me I’m missed while thinking of her He holds the knife to my chest I didn’t mind A man after my own heart Transient Chatter By Nathan Berg The people at bus depots are sad talkers. Their conversation is of the most desperate sort. They have fallen beyond the point of talking to feel like they matter. Instead they talk just to make sure they still exist— speech bubbles proving they have not faded into the ether.