On the days
where nothing screams at me,
I like to sit
and watch the sun
rise from deep slumber
and splash the shaded sky
with deep pastel
and watercolor paints.
Nigh Noon,
the sun licks my face
and kisses my belly,
warms me to my toes.
The sky looks like
a glass lake somewhere windless,
and I imagine
I can run my fingers through it
and make ripples.
But the sun soon yawns,
and stumbles off to bed,
begging I come with him.
I stay where I am
and watch
the pastel sky
turn to ash.
- - -
Taadaa! Yet another work of sensational art by me! Just kidding. I'm just fiddling around with imagery here, since I feel like I write too much about feelings and mushy girl stuff. Trying something new, so there.
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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."