I inherited the bag of cotton candy, last in the row and most eager to fill my mouth. I am remembering the taste and smell of childhood dreams, redheads, ice cream, and shiny noisy things. Once again I smell the vendors and greased carnival machines. I smile as the sugar melts, and I am back in the worn chair of the living room. I am thinking of you
They both end in why, as well.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
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