It's late afternoon on a Friday
It's late afternoon on a Friday
The sun is lazily setting just above my pale shoulder
I think I've become a blue flower
A quiet observer of slamming doors & dogs
My petals have grown envious of neiborhood children
& how they run, scream at the top of their lungs
The bicycle spokes click in perfect rhythm
with the changing of the seasons
And tears tempt my eyes with stolen kisses
The breeze, my bare feet, and the lingering sunlight
glistening off the driveway
are sometimes
the only links between me &
the big nothing of a world outside
that everyone says exists
Aimee
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