Reid@YWP

i will meet you on the soiled floor with splintered knees and pointless pinkie promises, bearing the gruesome girth of your loveless little lies / forever fighting to quench my thirst, but your roots will always remain sodden / they say

If I could run away, I’d be gone. I’d clamber up the fence onto the roof and take off running. I’d bound up into the air and across the fields of puffy white clouds, bouncy and weightless. 

9 PM,

a minty smell wavering over my just-brushed teeth,

fragile bubbles of soap curling on my fingertips and the sink,

10 PM,

curling up on the bed with a worn book,

The searing sunbeams felt like lasers, relentlessly scorching my head, my neck, my ears, my hands. The sand beneath my feet was a ravenous monster, sucking my worn boots down with every step.

For the very first time, on that star-scattered night, engulfed in the summer's sleep, and bathing in the perfectly rounded moon's shine, streams of silk-like gold brushed the endless midnight sky.

If not for the moon

that pulls the ocean tide up,

revealing raw sand,

then when would the sea

be able to thrash waves

when only at stillness?

And the surface water sits,

heavy on its floors