n0t a waste 0f space.

myfrontyard

i am waiting for a red van to take me to practice.

and there is yellow, dusty, pollen all around me,

the sky is purple and nostalgic,

as the net of the basketball hoop sways in the wind,

stirring up rose-tinted memories.

and my converse are the same, just a little more dirty and worn.

my hair's a little shorter and my heart a little more broken

and the sidewalk's a little more cracked. a little harder to walk on.

my best friend's just a cheerleader now, I am just a lonely artist

and she doesn't even know what i look like anymore.

the tire swing's just a rope now

that casts shadows around my neck, suffocating me.

and my front yard is just memories

and long-long agos.

-s.g.