itsjustannie
she felt the rush
as she stood on the edge, and peered at the ravine
and she felt impossibly tiny
and the rain fell above her,
and her face was wet and shined under the night sky
and she closed her eyes and took a step
fell
damn it i love you
rain drops falling and windows are cloudy
and umbrellas are vibrant in umber
and nothingness
and i see clouds
and I see your face
and we have nothing in common
but i kiss you anyways
because that's what we do when it's raining
and you're next to me
daylight breaks on the brink of a horizon that isn't quite there yet
the fog rolls in and out
in a never ending pattern
and the fawn stands
blinks his eyes
and waits
instrumentals dancing and humming through her mind
like the whir of a clock
all in precision time
the smooth sounds of imperfection
as blisters and bruises formed
and she felt weightless under the warmth of the sun
she squinted towards the slants of light coming through the stained glass
as it made bright patterns on the stained linoleum
it was abstract
something not quite there
but somehow-
it meant something
maybe just because she imagined there was hidden meaning
or maybe just because
it swirled into consciousness in bursts of grey light
streamed down her cheeks in droplets and tears
filled the hollow hole in the back of her heart with something
not quite there
but slightly resembling that light at the end of a tunnel
on the edge of the shelf sat the bottle
reflecting glints of gold in the late summer afternoon
she stared,
and waited
and wanted
and reach
let go, and it shattered, spilled all over the floor
when we're teenagers, we think our lives are intertwined
braided, like the cornsilk row that cascaded down her back when she was small
she distractedly touches her now shorn hair
and wipes the tears from her eyes
and waits
two halves of a whole?
love is infinite to anyone who shuts their eyes
and holds tight onto nothing
and as she keeps pulling, on what she thought
was always going to be hers
the string snapped
the balloon floated away
a tiny speck on the horizon
nothing.
and every afternoon he would sit on the last swing on the right
the one above the puddle and next to the blades of grass
fighting against the smothering asphalt
and he would pick at his peanut butter and jelly
watch his classmates run
and the little girl with the red glasses and the shy smile
and he would wait until he could fit in too.
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