It was the ceramic blue tiles in her bathroom
Which brings out the feelings of nostalgia
In my mind, taunting and free-flowing,
Like freezing water from the shower, draining.
After school at exactly four-thirty,
As the September sky turns a crimson city,
The horizon blushing from the afternoon kiss,
The moon hanging like a disco ball, solitary;
I remember the scent of cheap cotton-candy,
The lavishness of lavender in her calloused hands,
Rushing down to the empty park, I tripped,
But the sweet earth swiftly turned to catch me.
When my skin is painted with spots of indigo,
I run to the waiting arms of safety,
In the friendly noise of Lira's house,
Or out in the embrace of a clueless stranger.
I walk in circles and past lampposts,
Finding my way back to that place of curiosity,
Where hair strands create dizzying patterns,
On the cold floor made of hard concrete.
YOU ARE READING
What Love Used To Look Like
Poetry"What Love Used To Look Like" is a collection of short prose, poems, and contemplations about love, hurt, disappointments, and brokenness anyone experiences or has experienced at least once in their short lives. The collection intends to show the di...
