There was a stunning symbolism floating through the air that night.
We laughed about it without acknowledging it out loud,
Fumbling with lighters and glances cast downward.
I jumped a fence, in a dress, four hours past curfew.
You said, "You owe me an adventure, I saved your life today."
You had, and every day before that.
But never again since.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
There was a stunning symbolism floating through the air that night.
We laughed about it without acknowledging it out loud,
Fumbling with lighters and glances cast downward.
I jumped a fence, in a dress, four hours past curfew.
You said, "You owe me an adventure, I saved your life today."
You had, and every day before that.
But never again since.
Nearly three years old - Written about a day at the beach when I nearly drowned, then broke into a park and set off paper lanterns with 80 of my closest friends.
