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Mar 2017
You are the almost-silent
of my coffee-stained summer.
You are the clear and tender
plucking of guitar strings
on a lazy afternoon;

With sunlight streaming through
the painted window,
just bright enough to fill the room
but gentle enough to fall asleep to;

with the smell of everything we loveβ€”
caffeine and chocolate and banana muffinsβ€”
seemingly coursing through our veins
with every breath we take;

with the daydream of
what-could-be lingering
in the haze, in the silence
it sits,
it waits.

I proceed to the only thing
I know how to do
at this hour of day:
I stare at the cars passing by,
all the while wishing
I was staring at you instead.
Fiona Caitlin Buendia
Written by
Fiona Caitlin Buendia  21/F/Swamp Bottom
(21/F/Swamp Bottom)   
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