Act one: a game of tag, except you aren't it and you were never tagged
Featuring: the boy who feels like youth
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HE IS OF EVERYTHING / OF CRUSHED SUNFLOWERS / AND OLD CASSETTE TAPES /HE SITS UNDER THERE / (YEAH THERE) / UNDER THE SKY / HE THINKS / HE THINKS OF THE STARS / AND HOW THEY / LOOK LIKE TINY APRICOT BABIES UNDER THE COLD MOON /
she stares at him. admires. her heart is full.under the weight of a thousand trashy memories. mosquitoes are dying on her thighs. she didnt really care. she just thinks about him(only him) .and how he carries her heart in his pocket and calls it fashion. it's 1975 and their in Paris listening to some old girl in red. sipping drops of sparking mango juice.
her mama waits/ and waits / and waits / until finally her daughter emerges / from the cages of her damaged hearts / her hair parted in the middle / she didn't think she'll make it this far/. It's 1975 and she's alive. it's 1975 and she's happy
tag your it.
☁
the genes for being an artist and mentally ill aren't just related, they're the same — Neil hilborn
(you can now find me on instagram: _girlinred_wp)
