gin reminds me of
black birds
{singing
in the dead
of
night
}
when i want to
take my
b r o k e n
wings
&
learn y
to l
f
of flowers
blooming in
january
and
slightly-sweet country music
of
{almost}
thunderstorms and orange
blossoms
of wearing
too much
mascara
and blush
just to walk around
naked
in my kitchen
of cheeks
flushed
and the taste of lime
and gingerale
on the pads of
my
fingers
of restless nights
when days are l o n g
and sweet cosmos
and wine
don't cut the edg
e
and the
sting
of lavender laundry detergent
on a paper cut
of
being a
GROWNwoman and realizing
that
childhood
doesn't
end.
or stop.
when you
walk
a c r o ss
a stage
of t
u m
b l
e
off of a summer warmed s
l
i
d
e
of swisher
sweets
and wind chimes
in north carolina
of pressed powder and the tastes of
watered down
iced coffee
{coffee
ice
shake
almond milk
pour}
with no sugar
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
gin reminds me of
black birds
{singing
in the dead
of
night
}
when i want to
take my
b r o k e n
wings
&
learn y
to l
f
of flowers
blooming in
january
and
slightly-sweet country music
of
{almost}
thunderstorms and orange
blossoms
of wearing
too much
mascara
and blush
just to walk around
naked
in my kitchen
of cheeks
flushed
and the taste of lime
and gingerale
on the pads of
my
fingers
of restless nights
when days are l o n g
and sweet cosmos
and wine
don't cut the edg
e
and the
sting
of lavender laundry detergent
on a paper cut
of
being a
GROWNwoman and realizing
that
childhood
doesn't
end.
or stop.
when you
walk
a c r o ss
a stage
of t
u m
b l
e
off of a summer warmed s
l
i
d
e
of swisher
sweets
and wind chimes
in north carolina
of pressed powder and the tastes of
watered down
iced coffee
{coffee
ice
shake
almond milk
pour}
with no sugar
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