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Dec 2015
Pulling your blanket back on when it falls off in the night.
***** feet
and raspberry stained hands.
You, chewing on ice.
Me, sipping lemonade through red straws.
Moths that haunt the street lamps.
Dancing home alone,
ghosts that sing you to sleep,
old records on the table.
Riding your bike as the sun sinks sleepily at your back.
Being pressed up against the back door.
The seasons.
Winter.
Freedom.
Naked, terrible beauty.
Watching your back receding down the long, sunlit hall.
The two of us,
always running away from eachother.
????
Sydney Queen
Written by
Sydney Queen
996
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