My lungs are filled with nothing but
your promises, yet the air is filled with
oxygen, missed calls, documents.
Doors shut. I open. You enter me, bringing
the caress of arms, the chokehold of legs,
but no tulips, which I like.
Bodies are not imprisoned by space,
but persons. Yet every time we kissed,
I was a semblance of a shadow. You passed through
me towards sunshine streaked Mondays.
I’ve learned that without batteries,
the clock still ticks. And so, my signature does not
fall through the dotted line, but flies above it.
Danielle Mikaelian studied English Literature at Columbia University, enrolling in multiple poetry workshops through Columbia’s Creative Writing Department. Mikaelian was named Columbia’s 2021 Student of the Year in recognition of her impact on campus. She is currently pursuing a J.D. at Harvard Law School. Danielle Mikaelian’s poetry addresses themes like romance, loneliness, and sense of identity. Her poems have appeared in HyeBred Magazine and The Armenian Weekly. She is a lover of the written word and has spoken to undergraduate clubs across the country to mentor students who aspire to attend law school.
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