it was under a cold November sky when it happened/she smelled of fragrant shampoo and a slight hint of mashed potatoes/I don’t usually like mashed potatoes/but today they are my favorite/with lashes fluttering against cheeks/it was a zing/so natur

when I was in fifth grade, 

my dog died.

we had her before I was born.

we cremated her.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness 

Lord, please, send me a message

Being American isn’t taking down your pride flags and cowering as far as you can from the ballot box when there’s no hope anymore