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Shannon Heylin

 

Jon rocks back and forth on the ground

Sipping on a mixture of red and white wine

Filled to the brim in a floral teacup that

He cradles like a baby bird

 

Emily hovers on the edge of the pink couch

Taking discreet hits of her pen

In between enthusiastic comments and laughter

Liz lounges back into the cushions next to Emily

Protectively grasping the stemmed wine glass

 

The moon hovers above the yellow house

Full and content

Shining protectively over the moment

 

Suddenly, Liz and Emily are possessed, by the music, to stand

Jon is in the corner of the room giggling

Observing the two scream Taylor Swift

Cheering on their clumsy dancing

 

The studio apartment is filled with heavy humid air

And a subtle scent of weed.

The occasional gust of the cool summer breeze enters

Through the windows, upsetting the resting curtains.

 

Empty wine bottles and glasses clutter the coffee table

Candy hearts stuck between the couch cushions

Saltine crumbs sprinkled across the table

And burrowed between the blue carpet fibers

 

I desperately attempt to hold on to the moment

The mischievous grin on Jon’s face as

He lovingly argues with Liz

She stands defensively in a faded, well-loved, The Doors t-shirt,

And chaotically colorful mismatched socks

 

The ceiling slopes low

As the conversations die down

The music softens

And coy smiles and empty glasses

Make the decision it’s time to walk home


Shannon Heylin majored in visual arts, concentrating in painting, at Mason Gross School of the Arts, class of 2021. She is from Barrington, IL, a northwest suburb of Chicago. Writing is her way of expressing her feelings and experiences when it cannot be captured in a single painting.