You are the summer, ravishing and young,
that craves a harsher touch, a fatal change.
You prune with swords to fight thoughts on your tongue
that cry intelligence and worth estranged.
And yet, you find yourself reflected gray,
your straw (once green) littered with blemished seed.
That shrinking flesh sating cracking decay,
peers to the sky with envy, paying heed.
You wish for cold and dandelion tears
to cradle like a mother never lost.
With grey disguise to hush away your fears,
the mirror begs to warp and crack with frost.
Look in your eyes reflected not yet old.
Blow out the candle– it reflects the cold.
Untitled
Kaya Stark
•
November 16, 2023
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About the Contributor

Kaya Stark, Opinions Editor
Kaya Stark is a senior philosophy major from Wrenshall, MN (AKA, “a little south of Duluth” as no one has never heard of Wrenshall). In her limited free time, Kaya can be found knitting something she likely will never finish, reading a book, or writing in her journal. She has enjoyed her work as an editor for the Opinions Section of the Mess for the last two years, and is excited to see what her last year will bring!