I Love it Here

Clashing pink on green 
Faded colors up on trees 
Soft flannel on spiked ground 
Buying red grapes by the pound 
A whole album passes
Reading the sign about the masses 
Loud ears in a quite town
Sitting high up on a mound 
Painted nails, decorated hands 
Looking at my wrists, covered in bands
Friends cross the cracked road 
Strangers wave their hellos
Warm air fills this old place 
As I think about whether or not I’ve had a change in taste 
In the end I have one question 
Who outgrew who in this situation? 
 
Avatar for username BlueEyedRose

BlueEyedRose

VT

YWP Alumni

More by BlueEyedRose

See all

  • Poetry

    By BlueEyedRose

    Dear Writing

    Dear Writing, 

    I've missed you. 

    I thought you wouldn't take me back. 
    Or at least, I wouldn't know what to say. 
    It seemed as if I had used you, 
    And every part of myself while I was at it. 

    Read More

  • Poetry

    By BlueEyedRose

    You Dig Holes

    I dig holes.
    So that I can sit at the bottom,
    So that you can sit on the bottom,
    And so that we can sit on the bottom, 
    Together. 

    Over and over again,
    I dig holes.

    And I imagine how we get into the hole.

    Read More