Probably not as funny as I think I am
Insta @chloe_j_writes
I am a magpie, collecting trinkets from the people I encounter. clutched in my beak is a turn of phrase I found particularly shiny from an old college friend.
By Chloë J.3 years ago in Poets
It was a dark and stormy night- No, wait, I don’t think that’s quite right, There was a red sky, in the morning, I think it could have been a warning.
Running, running, running with my feet too slow, Slowly dripping poison pours from giant hands. Hand me the gun, “aim for where the venom flows,”
Fatigue holds my hand. Insomnia kisses my forehead. Sleeplessness and her friends gently paint violet shadows under the dull and boarded up windows to my soul.
hills so green it hurts my eyes, rising on each side of me, twice my height, crowding the path, mounds of earth look like Viking gravesites or giant sleeping gnomes.
“Pink and chocolate, and can I get sprinkles?” I place my order at a plastic donut store, in miniature, such a good sport, dad says, playing with your little sister who responds;
I suggest you shut your mouth before you find it gaping. // Yet before you opened it I learned your heart was breaking.
I had the privilege of laying wreaths on veteran’s graves through Wreaths Across America. Many of the graves were the final resting places of unknown soldiers. Thank you to all who have served, with your time and with your lives.
denizens of earth bubblegum pink. as for me, melancholy blue.
Am I broken if my preferred feeling is sad? I just know it best.
Over and under the blue we fly together, twining ‘til we end.
I have always thought that blue is honorary black and white; like me.
