Writing

We lie tired 

Bundled up in puffers and scarves 

On the pleather seats of the bus that feels like home. 

You rummage through your red lunchbox, 

Unpacking each item carefully 

and all his other songs, album covers mostly variations of a homesick grayish-green. Acoustic guitar thrumming through the speakers in steady 4/4 time.

I loved her post

Clicked that red heart button

That broke more hearts than it mended

I saw the picture that she edited nonstop

That she filtered

Until that girl on the screen wasn’t 

Her

At

take me out.

knock me over the head with a baseball bat and drag my unconscious form

beneath the shadowed wall. into a wardrobe. a hobbit hole.

wherever you can think to put me, do so. i want out.

i want to make my mark

A movie theme for many, for some, a nightmare that has come to life.

Ready to do any job for you, or take it, and bring strife.

i learned 
life liberty 
the pursuit of happiness 
before i learned 
how often a promise 
can hesitate 

no one mentioned 
how often you’d have to prove