Apr 2019
free
/frē/
adjective
1. when this house stops feeling like a brick covered coffin and your words stop clawing at your throat as you are riddled with epiphanies that blister your tongue and make your throat burn because of the awful truth in them. when you can learn how to make the planets move and break the shackles of the glow in the dark stars that don’t even resemble constellations
2. how it feels to have a vine curl around your finger as you lay in a garden of orange carnations and know you have time for it to grow around you. You don’t have to listen for your father’s pickup truck or wait for your mother’s calloused hands and cheap perfume smile
3. the broken glass of your bedroom window as your hand bleeds copper bright enough to attract the neon birds that will take you home. you say that you will always be afraid but your bruised knuckles show that you are willing to be brave despite that fear. God was afraid to make the cosmos too.
/frē/
adjective
1. when this house stops feeling like a brick covered coffin and your words stop clawing at your throat as you are riddled with epiphanies that blister your tongue and make your throat burn because of the awful truth in them. when you can learn how to make the planets move and break the shackles of the glow in the dark stars that don’t even resemble constellations
2. how it feels to have a vine curl around your finger as you lay in a garden of orange carnations and know you have time for it to grow around you. You don’t have to listen for your father’s pickup truck or wait for your mother’s calloused hands and cheap perfume smile
3. the broken glass of your bedroom window as your hand bleeds copper bright enough to attract the neon birds that will take you home. you say that you will always be afraid but your bruised knuckles show that you are willing to be brave despite that fear. God was afraid to make the cosmos too.
