Writing

For a businesswoman, she is very kind. She is the winter giving her hand to autumn as they trade places. Autumn stands back and watches Winter do her work, covering Autumn's leaves and grass until everything is white, white, white.

i've always loved the smell of paper

and i get to decide where everything gets to go.

when i hear a sound

i'd rather see what it is 

than cower and wonder 

what it could be.

for a tortoise, i think i beat the hare. he ran from everything yet always won. whether it was to give up friends or to just be right. now i pass him as he naps on the side of the road. i need a nap too, though.

I was in love with him once. I think.

Lavender walls

Stare at me

Painted a lifeless white,

I swore they were purple.

I try to grasp onto any memory 

That I could think of.

 they say I used to be so free,
 as if I set that freedom down
 somewhere careless
 and forgot to pick it back up.