| The newest additions in the collection of crap that I've tried to pass as poetry. |


And it is young women between.You've become paper, life crushed between ideas, and I am jealous.And it is young women between.


I Am.I am manufactured red on lips and pearly soldiers sneaking little bites, nervous taptaptapping shimmer shades of filed fingernails and rhinestoned silver stacked on wrists. I'm plastic hearts and painted eyes and every promise, whispered earnest in the dark, we ever broke.I Am.
I am lakewater wet hair shedding sheets of everything but and mud rising between turned-in toes, pine needle impressions in the bottoms of bare feet and a sun-bathed sigh, eyes closed, taking in the satisfied smell of smoke and sap. I'm the sensation of spiritual nudity with a whispered, "you can breat


FireflyDew drenched backyards catch the footfalls of tiny toes, cooling warm bodies wrapped in lacy white dresses and the world is beautiful at night; a haven for the wonderland of childhoodFirefly
and a backdrop for the fairytale that must be growing up.
Laughter pours from between open lips and pure hearts remember everything. Even the wind kisses their hands and asks for a dance, pulls his fingers through their hair and whispers, "Everything's wonderful."
Catching stars in lanternjars, they're holding light in their innocent hands and they know they're magic.
| The newest additions in the collection of crap that I've tried to pass as poetry. |
by =kaboomachu
by ~tomanaTwitter is a free social messaging utility for staying connected in real-time.
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