It wasn't planned.
If it were, you would not
Have worn your faded flip flops.
But now you're running,
Your heart is beating
And your lungs are burning
But that's okay
Because that's just a reminder
That they're working.
The staccato rhythm is
slamming into your eardrums
And you are singing along,
And not once do you think of
How stupid you must look to
Cars passing by.
Because you don't care.
Perhaps for the first time in awhile
You feel alive,
And you're not going to let anyone
Take it away from you.
So you keep running,
As the sun tucks away for the night.
And who really cares about
The flip flops?
You can always buy a new pair.
YOU ARE READING
Goodbye, Pastel
PoesíaI wonder is you can feel it too- The discrete pockets of sunlight Slipping through on dreary days; It warms my skin and fuels my smile. I'll keep the garden, After all. {Sequel to Fake Flowers}
