Hannah Fuller


you asked me to write you a poem. one where

it doesn’t hurt to read. you tell me too often i write

with grief as the main character. sadness and loss

as the supporting roles. you say my metaphor of love

as a gaping flesh wound is so unfair. we kiss. i write

you a poem. one where we end up together and

live out our forever on the moon. where there is

no fear, no grief, no oozing wound. where there is

a weightlessness. like how you hold my heart so it

doesn’t feel as heavy. like how a peach melts in

the sun and dribbles sickly sweet. i almost accept

this idea of love. almost move to the moon with you

and bounce around from crater to crater, knowing it

was never about the hurt; it was about the release.

until you leave. and my heart comes down with a

resounding thud and opens up, spilling black into

my chest. grief comes in and cleans the mess. i write

another poem. one where the moon doesn’t exist.


Hannah Fuller is a sophomore English (literature) and psychology major. When she’s not furiously scribbling away, she enjoys hiking and baking.