Five Years


It’s been five years.
Your feet still dangle
In the backyard of my mind.
I tied a noose around my regrets
And hanged them beside you that day.

Now broken promises
Come creeping under bedroom doors
When we turn out the lights.
The boogieman is real.

And angry.

And blonde.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Cameras With No Film


We were killing time to kill our minds
We filled ourselves with ten cent dreams
And even cheaper contradictions
We wrote basement manifestos
In used marble notebooks
And that smile your parents paid for
Outshone everything I had to say



* Kathryn Mitchell is a 21-year-old student living in New York City, where she majors in How to graduate from NYU without being a sarcastic, pretentious asshole. She’s currently failing.