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Oct 2016
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You are a shotgun that shoots me with flowers, that stick to my skin like the wet morning air.
You are apologies left unread hidden in the mailboxes of the people I love during the humid summers of Florida.
You are a pocket knife.
You are a lighter with little gas left.
You are essential to live, if not, it would mean a life without tears rolling down my dry skin when Iā€™m eating York Peppermint patties at 2 am thinking of you.
You are a shotgun.
You are the light of a dimly lit candle that burns me when I go to turn the flame off with my fingers in the middle of a monsoon.
You are a noose.
You are a hammer with no nail on a rainy Sunday evening.
You are a shotgun that shoots me with flowers.
Carla Michelle
Written by
Carla Michelle  Chicago, IL
(Chicago, IL)   
  793
   ---, ---, Silverflame, Jamie and Doug Potter
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