Writing

& the sun through the windows & a clapping song playing

on the speakers, 45 degrees outside & almost sunny

& nothing to do, well, a lot to do, but the sun through the windows

new converse, christmas lights strung up til march, arcade pizza glistening with grease, red hair dye, burnt-off fog, rain, i think, or the dew on grass, dark lip stain, tracks in fresh snow, heavy vanilla, old lemon peel, pink ribbons forgotten o

Some people don’t stay

like mountains do.

They arrive like weather —

soft, sudden,

changing the air around you.

They sit beside you

on ordinary days

and somehow

make them glow.

I don't know what is wrong with this world to make a young girl think that her body, when looking in the mirror, is ugly because her tummy is full of food. Oh.

As I lie in the warmth,

The sun brushes life with gold.

My soul fills with sounds of laughter, thorns,

but everything feels so cold.

The beautiful water so nice and giving,

I miss when everything used to be simple

when everyone got a cookie

and we didn't have to worry 

about if there was one less

But I did,

because what if another guest came to the tea party?