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ajayPoems
Crayola, brick red, tearing open a new pack-- our favorite color. Rebels, scraping, up, indifferent to lines, down-- our favorite color. Paper became ill fit bodies became canvases-- our favorite color. Our bodies, our tools, crayons never left our side-- our favorite color. She built a train track. It only took seven years-- my favorite color. "Follow the straight line" Giving up on her sweet dream-- her favorite color. I looked down at her letting the brick red stick drop-- my favorite color. It's in the casket, but brick red forever is our favorite color.
0
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
I Hate Straight Lines
Crayola, brick red, tearing open a new pack-- our favorite color. Rebels, scraping, up, indifferent to lines, down-- our favorite color. Paper became ill fit bodies became canvases-- our favorite color. Our bodies, our tools, crayons never left our side-- our favorite color. She built a train track. It only took seven years-- my favorite color. "Follow the straight line" Giving up on her sweet dream-- her favorite color. I looked down at her letting the brick red stick drop-- my favorite color. It's in the casket, but brick red forever is our favorite color.
ajay
Written by
ajay
Indian
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
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