Two Poems, by Ada Donnelly

I like you because you’re my kind of weird

yesterday my tarot cards said I liked you
today I smiled because my book said libra and Gemini were a good match
in the raw pounding wind of New York city, I seek succor in your arms
we hide out in the Fulton street station talking about how both our fathers cried when
Amy Winehouse died
yesterday you told me your dad had two months left to live
I told you my bipolar II had come back
and we held hands and arms and hearts
while solving physics problems in the back corner of the classroom

we get more compliments together than we do apart
a pair of people adored by the masses
asked consistently why we are not together
and I believe we are running out of answers

once when we were both high and surrounded by cold and flirting and kisses we cuddled
together while I told you the color I thought each country was
another time we layed at best buy watching an ad for a tv on a tv for hours
we cut eye holes in McDonalds bags and slipped them over our heads
when I am with you I feel ancient and childish
but I will never tell you so


Chronic Pain

my bones ache
they turn peach and rust
with hardships written solid
like near-end mountain dew

my bones will melt into milk
and lavender will sprout from its sadness
enclosed inside of an oyster’s pearl
buried under your mother’s backyard

Ada is on the right

Ada Donnelly is a Brooklyn born and based poet and photographer. She has received Scholastic Art & Writing silver keys for both her poetry and photography. She lives with her two cats and is a Libra. Both of her parents are poets, and she is inspired by both her mom, Emily Dickinson, and her personal favorite, Sylvia Plath.