Poetry by: Kylee Mattox ’18

“Cedar Lane”

It’s that moment that you and I talk about

Where you feel, whilst you are in the present,

That this very moment is a pure one, an eternal space.

These moments happen often, could be a different time, a different place,

With a different person, a different you, but it is always the same feeling.

I promise.

It is Cedar Lane after your best friend has walked away from you

Without knowing that this would be the last time.

It is sad now, but it was beautiful then.

Someone could’ve told me right there,

The last thing I’d ever want to hear,

And I would have made it the best thing I had yet to hear, so far.

I condense these moments, (though they don’t deserve it)

Spread ‘cross time and place and space, into one melody

That plays continuously in my memory: “Cedar Lane.”

It sings me to sleep, hushes my cries, and picks me up in

Moments of realization that appear to me, too late.

It is the thick of my cheek forcing the crows feet out of my eyes when

I realize that life is so much more than we expected.

It is fall, and dried leaves, and warm colors,

And the space between the daring summers

And the winters of regret.

It is the reason that somewhere,

Between the tragedy, between the high,

I can move on, I can forgive, I can forget.

I promise.

I see you on Cedar Lane,

Treading yellow lines ahead of me.

You look over your shoulder,

to make sure I’m still watching,

before you vanish into the gold

of a November dusk.

“The Break”

I can hear you.

And as if the right words could save us,

You winced as each syllable left your lips.

You waited for my reaction,

But I, with wet eyes

Bowed my head down and

Tilted to the side,

Jaw tensed, nose pinched,

For your voice held an uncertainty

My ears could not bear.

You exhale.

Some things can’t be saved.

“Open Eyes”

When you ask me to sing

I say, “Please, close your eyes.”

You chuckle, turn your back

So as to not laugh,

‘cause this is ridiculous,

but you close them anyway.

As you listen,

Your jaw relaxes toward your chest

And I watch your eyes move around

Under your eyelids, back and forth,

Side to side.

It’s cute,

What you look like when you listen to me,

As if this were it, the voice

You heard in your dream

That you hadn’t been able to place.

The voice that made you wonder

About the memories you swore

To yourself you’d forgotten,

And brought them back into the light.


Now, open your eyes.

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