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Jun 13
i dream of being a woman
who is nothing like me

she craves the bitter taste of black coffee the minute she wakes up in the morning
and she gets her sugar instead from fresh honey and strawberries from the market two blocks down

a frayed button up shirt hangs off her frame and her hands are coated in yellow and pink watercolors from her morning spent trying to paint the bouquet of wildflowers which on her kitchen table

she doesn’t fear heights
in fact she enjoys the small rush of endorphins she feels each time she steps out on to the tiny balcony of her apartment

her home is filled to the brim with books collected from lovers and paintings bought from the old couple who live next door
and the clutter of drawings on her nightstand doesn’t fill her with dread- she loves the smell of pen ink and pencil shavings

she stays up late enough to watch the sky turn from midnight black to the same colors her fingertips are stained with
for she doesn’t want to miss a single minute of the beautiful life she gets to call her own

but most of all
she doesn’t want to be anyone but herself
Written by
elizabeth  20/F/New York
(20/F/New York)   
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