About the Author
Jeron Jennings hails from Saint Regis, MT. He is a second-year English Teaching student at the University of Montana, but has an unofficial passion for Creative Writing. When he is not smashing ungraceful words together and deeming it literature, he is likely listening to music, enjoying a few libations, and pondering the meaning of existence.
And it’s not like shame.
It’s like driving home
with one headlight out and no insurance,
fearing the interstate won’t stay in place.
Knock the wind out of me -
you are anything but sobering;
light and unsweetened.
You are earthy
and you are in bloom -
may I wither next to you?
Spell my name wrong,
umbrella.
There are spiders on your eye
and you roll them
upside down.
This transaction is a knife-fight.
I've brought a liquid razor
to kill off insecurities
that you've pollinated.
This drink is a mixed drink –
fluid and inseparable.
There’s a reason I’ve turned my back
before, but I can feel myself sinking
deeper.
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