Eliza Fihlman
Cherry blossoms spread across the sky like pastel lace.
I walk to forget his words, hot breaths on my lips,
caressed my hair with calloused palms, You’re mine, he said.
I slip past my skin, I succumb to the voice.
I walk to forget his words, hot breaths on my lips,
drift with soft rustles of evening wind.
I slip past my skin, I succumb to the voice,
stretch my fingertips up past the opal moon.
I drift with soft rustles of evening wind,
Sprinkle petals over my skin, paint my limbs in silk
stretch my fingertips up past the opal moon,
caress my lips with flickers of light, You’re mine! I sing.
Sprinkle petals over my skin, paint my limbs in silk
on the grass I trace my shadow, my lightless silhouette,
spread cherry blossoms across the sky like pastel lace,
caress my face with a swirl of my fingerprint, You’re mine, I whisper.
Elizabeth Fihlman (’26) is studying psychology at Cedar Crest College.