Reid@YWP

The gentle sway of trees in the wind, golden locks of hair blowing in the breeze

Syncing with the cattails in the shallows

This is what peace is.

her hands are chapped and raw from anxiously 

peeling away her skin

so she goes through every fidget she can find

and wears them down until they break.

her lips and nose are red and cracked

#1. A Sister's Lament

Don’t tell me you didn’t know

that the shirt you’re wearing is mine

and then treat me like the bad guy

when I say “take it off” and you say

I remember the day I met you,

The day I didn’t want to,

The moment our parents forced us together,

The second I took a look at you.

Your blond hair was to your chin,

Imagine if emotional baggage looked physical.