Coco

My friend's home is beautiful. 

It's got green walls with flowers all over. The floor is soft and plush. It's warm but only in summer, and it's too cold in winter. But my friend likes it just fine.

There’s this song,

Slipping Through My Fingers.

By ABBA. From Mamma Mia!

That's how I see it.

Our rights.

“I try to capture every minute.”

They say the world was once wider, 
measured in scraped knees and firefly nights, 
in the space between streetlights, 
where time was counted in the hush before dinner. 

When I think about tomorrow, 

I see the calculus test I have not studied for 

and the five overdue assignments with long-received