when I think of love,
I think of flowers
in my hair
running with me in the wind.
they can be anywhere
yet they stick with me
like I pick them,
knowing
my freedom is their own.
fluttering leaves and fleeting feelings
The cicada’s call in the day and the rain’s fall in the night— I wind down and settle into acceptance. The buzz of Summer fades as I squeeze every last drop of its carefree, like chlorine in my hair. The sun could never burn my melanin. My skin is thick. But sometimes things get stuck under it. Sometimes, I just want to crawl out of it. Outside, patience awaits me. And as for my home— it will be stripped to its core until I can retreat to warmth again. To be bare— be one with the trees, and Fall.