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» eight pm

i'm writing this alone
back pressed against a wooden bench
waiting for coals from a dying campfire
to extinguish

smoke's curling out from the fireplace
and wafting in my direction
it'll get in my clothes and remind me of camp
not unpleasant

earlier today
my cousins held marshmallows stuck on sticks
mine burnt
i like them burnt
always have

still earlier
the oldest ( second only to me )
climbed our orange tree
i've never done that before
the tree shook 

and at five 
we ate chinese food
they came with fortune cookies
mine said i'm a humanitarian 
we threw them all into the fire 

there's no more smoke now
the embers are still glowing
i'm fucking cold
i still can't go inside

[ 2.13.21 ]