The Schoolyard

By Kelly Grace Thomas

 

Slow dances and fists fights

they proved themselves with rolled up sleeves the disappearing line between creation and destruction.

Unrelenting eye contact echoed as nicknames planned the future.

Those with nothing to lose will remind you otherwise,

without regret to hang their past on, life is all vowels and pulses of pride.

No one taught them to brave, pacing in the silent corners society had craved out of failed expectations,

But still they were

because its not a fight, unless they look at the moon and see every face worth losing.

Its not a victory if every morning is missing an I love you.