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lslaathaugPoems
she’s reminiscing, a young woman, who already feels old. The weight of her heart hunches her shoulders and adds girth to her frame. She wonders if life would be easier if she was skinnier because she looks at photos and recalls a waif with big eyes and bigger hair nineteen and lovestruck, his hand in hers sneaking into abandoned houses, and lying in golden fields, the cool summer nights of bicycle rides in the dark. How much easier it was fall in and out of love when you felt invincible and didn’t know it– when you’re more than the woman cloaked in black, like the heart she’s always joked about and drenched in wine and smoke– if she could be but the night and swallow the sun, moon, the stars, and all that ever was– but no, she’s a whisper one word slipping into silence.
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May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
In a one-bedroom apartment
she’s reminiscing, a young woman, who already feels old. The weight of her heart hunches her shoulders and adds girth to her frame. She wonders if life would be easier if she was skinnier because she looks at photos and recalls a waif with big eyes and bigger hair nineteen and lovestruck, his hand in hers sneaking into abandoned houses, and lying in golden fields, the cool summer nights of bicycle rides in the dark. How much easier it was fall in and out of love when you felt invincible and didn’t know it– when you’re more than the woman cloaked in black, like the heart she’s always joked about and drenched in wine and smoke– if she could be but the night and swallow the sun, moon, the stars, and all that ever was– but no, she’s a whisper one word slipping into silence.
#napowrimo
lslaathaug
Written by
lslaathaug
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
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