Twilight.
Late at night.
Beautiful sight.
She blinks.
Heels in her hand, mascara flakes onto her rosey cheeks.
Swaying,
Secretly praying,
Silently in her mind.
Even more silently in her heart.
Who knows what of?
Who cares?
She thinks.
These are the best days of her life.
At least that's what they told her.
Eighteen,
Singing Springsteen,
Loudly in the streets.
Drunk and disorderly,
Who knows who she'll meet?
And who cares?
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Twilight.
Late at night.
Beautiful sight.
She blinks.
Heels in her hand, mascara flakes onto her rosey cheeks.
Swaying,
Secretly praying,
Silently in her mind.
Even more silently in her heart.
Who knows what of?
Who cares?
She thinks.
These are the best days of her life.
At least that's what they told her.
Eighteen,
Singing Springsteen,
Loudly in the streets.
Drunk and disorderly,
Who knows who she'll meet?
And who cares?
