I dreamt, curled in the thick cut lines of "The Starry Night"
and I forgot what an old city feels like when I look out at the streetlights with neon flickering glasses
I forgot how to feel somewhere in September;
my lips pressed on a boy's from the Ivory Coast.
Face blistering on the Champs-Élysées, thinking of nostalgic songs I should be too young to feel
-
I remember how it feels to rub my hands into redwood bark
and how I wished for something real.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
I dreamt, curled in the thick cut lines of "The Starry Night"
and I forgot what an old city feels like when I look out at the streetlights with neon flickering glasses
I forgot how to feel somewhere in September;
my lips pressed on a boy's from the Ivory Coast.
Face blistering on the Champs-Élysées, thinking of nostalgic songs I should be too young to feel
-
I remember how it feels to rub my hands into redwood bark
and how I wished for something real.
Listen to Joni Mitchell, "California"
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