dream on repeat

 

 

 

 

 

I’m 16
I smell of Love’s Baby Soft
and everything is pink
and fresh and romantic
like a love letter

 

 

 

 

 

 

testing the waters

 

 

 

 

seems fitting
spring begins here
the origin of life

 

 

 

 

 

metaphor

 

 

 

I once suggested she have a good cry
she said “I’m afraid if I start
I’ll never be able to stop”

 

 

 

 

little fires

 

 

 

 

sometimes I’m quick to snuff it out
sometimes I let it burn
but there’s always that ash
sticking to the soles of my shoes
the gritty tracks
follow me
for days

 

 

 

sacred space