We always sat under the willow trees and dreamed about growing up. How fun it would be to make our own rules, to be unhealthy and have a credit card and drive cars. When we let the words in our souls pour through our lips instead of suppressing them. We played on the monkey bars and got dirt in our hair and clothes and the boys yelled that girls had cooties. When we got lost in our childhood innocence, never understanding the pain of the outside world, never tainted by hatred. Our eyes still sparkled with life, arms and legs sprawled on top of each other after a long day. The rush to open all of the windows on the bus in summer when it was too hot outside. When we thought the coolest thing was eating ice cream, letting it drip over our clothing in the hot sun. When we woke up so early because we were excited about life. Excited to learn and live! When we thought that life was as simple as getting a job and being happy. When we thought we were in love and love was only the simple notion that you liked the way someone looked. We were children. Lost in hope and love and happiness, because we thought we were invincible.
YOU ARE READING
Oleander-COMPLETED
PoesiaALL RIGHTS RESERVED Her words were like oleander flowers, so delicate, like a gossamer spider string, but poisonous, like her scarred, despondent heart. *in other words, my crap poetry that is still really important to me*
