Aaron Calloway
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Data bro with a secret
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Stories (5)
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It's March 25. Honorable Mention in The Metamorphosis of the Mind Challenge.
I still think about Giuseppe every day. It’s March 25 and I catch myself staring out the window - in a trance - never sure for how long or what I was looking for. Spring has started to reveal himself, provocatively - though my desire seems frozen inside the 25 kisses G used to leave on my sleepy forehead before catching the metro; a morning person to my night owl, compatible only through dialectical juxtaposition, cosmically at odds. I’ve learned to relinquish my daze to Spring, an act of supplication to lead the escape from Winter and all the heartbreak we bore with the cold, infamous for keeping dead organs alive.
By Aaron Calloway9 months ago in Psyche
i remember Red
Like the first time I saw the sunset. I mean really saw it. Hanging off a California cliff with my best friends i never talk to anymore. So high off our youth convinced we could fly like eagles with talons locked in ritual folly, clasping each other as wings, if only one would jump. There in our dodo's conundrum we bore witness to the inverted rainbow of colours unapologetically sprawled across a once common sky. Eyes peeled raw by this fiery source of red, not a blood tint but the type of crimson hue that faithfully carries pink, powerfully soft, zealously warm in its earnest to protect. Finally, real red shooting up slyly against the grain; feral, aloof. And as Red evolves unpretentiously they forget to mention that its final destination is but a penultimate ruse. That its latent, sultry violet - a blanket to surrenderers - extends into the cosmos indefinitely, until you begin to believe obscurity is just collateral damage for beauty. They don’t really tell you how sunset is spectrum in reverse - exhaling to keep it all alive - though i haven’t been able to see right-side up ever since
By Aaron Callowayabout a year ago in Poets


