you
you are
you are the
you are the macaroni
you are the macaroni to
you are the macaroni to my
you are the macaroni to my cheese
and if that doesn’t make sense, leave it,
i’ll be happy with you long after metaphors deteriorate
Posted in response to the challenge Build.
these shoes feel like wings.
i am
f l y i n g
across the newly grooved pavement, balancing
on pink wheels and scraped knees and a perfect morning
there are things i want to say to you. i feel like a fangirl; like rounded block letters on lined paper and i's dotted with hearts. i
america is a kindergartner with her hair in pigtails. her
eyes are bright blue & curious. she wants to know the answers
to everything and she can't understand why
no one will tell her.
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