lip-gloss smiles,
cracked, glassy and clear,
smiled from meadows while imagining-
imagine white summer linens,
dark denim shorts and wind-whipped hair,
short and sweet.
long silver chains, shining shells,
music lining up with a girl’s heartbeat,
who desperately wishes for once
that it was warm
and the stars opened their hearts,
and indie bands played at festivals in lavender fields.
ignore the fact that we’re all alone,
trying to brush off the pain,
shedding tears of contrition,
because we gave up lip-gloss kisses long ago,
along with the hand that ran through our short hair.
pretend you’re alone,
but on a skiff,
with bright white sails,
wearing windy linens,
eating soft ice-creams,
waving to the fishermen off the island.
really, you’re alone,
alone alone,
missing the feeling of intertwined hands,
a creaky old swing-set, swinging
in the prairie winds.
