A quizzical creature bundled down. Quilted together, cut, from the same cloth - different scissors. Warm until tattered, somehow catching wind. A tired, musty dry line sagging and swaying. Moreover, the unreachable often still reach you. Crooked, but as usual, the only one in town.
A novelty, she turns each page with as much emotion as she reads. Petals pressed, feathers caught, stories from the back of the book; pages no one else sees. A leak in performance held by drying wrinkles. I stared at each word so long, clinging for dear life to everything she whispered, the slow march of typeface across skin. Dangling by fear and craving off the sidewalk’s end.
Of all the colors counting my favorite one is you. I couldn't be more happy if all the snacks were blue. Statistically speaking - tongue tied - vomiting words, but all completely true.
My advice, fallen deaf on the ears made by adjoining symphony - or cacophony - indifference. Splice. Sew broken chord through and thorough. Fodder for the cannon; bows at the ready. My advice? Hold your head high, an octave above the rest. And fade.
Far, far away. Sittin’ where the apple seeds grow all day. Whistle up a smile and the branches sway. Dump out the bath and keep the baby face. Nothing left of leaving - only born yesterday.