The Colors of America
Red
White
And Blue
The colors of America
We parade down the streets
Covered in these colors
I wonder what our parade will look like
This year
Will we parade with joy
Celebrate tragedies
Red
White
And Blue
The colors of America
We parade down the streets
Covered in these colors
I wonder what our parade will look like
This year
Will we parade with joy
Celebrate tragedies
I need pretty things;
I need the Lumineers singing
about flowers on vinyl, and
I need stained glass bubbles twinkling
in the window, and
to see my poetry scrawled in
My dad was a super hero. One weekend out of every month.
The best kind of pain. Pain for what we once loved and now lost. The ability to know what it was once like is a privilege. It’s hard to quantify the feeling; the simple 1–10 chart is unreliable in this circumstance.
I always wanted to live on a lake. Not on the shore but bobbing among the waves. I’d envision a floating device under my home and rowing to shore for groceries and parties. I’d float around town until I brought to where I needed to be.
If I was a bug I’d be a beetle. A Japanese beetle, invasive and not necessary. Nothing special to look at, just a beetle looking beetle. I’m sure you’ve seen hundreds of them without batting an eye.
The smell of sticky buns wake me up but I haven’t quite awoken yet. I can feel the crust from last night keeping my eyes shut.
You broke her heart,
Now you know how I feel?
I feel enraged,
Angered,
Like I want you to leave,
You broke her,
So you broke me.
She WAS a ray of light,
Now she's just a shadow.
In the places I have lived
I stick out like a sore thumb.
Everyone knows that I don’t belong
I’m from somewhere else across the seas
A place called the USA
summers we would go home…
Happy Birthday!
Thanks for another year of teasing,
Inside jokes,
But that was also another year of heartbreak,
And stuff that meant something to me,
But you claimed it was 'unintentional',
I looked up at the statue, and it looked down at me.
There we stood, unhappy wretches.
a kiwi soft with suntanned skin from
what seems like a lifetime of being outside,
you swim probably unlike a bird because birds don’t swim
but it’s sweet to imagine – you