killer roses and overgrown weeds
broken bones and nosebleeds
fires and warm winter nights
bad storms and moonlight
books and paper everywhere
ever pervasive animal hair
stained counters and still-clean tile
all the things I won't see for a while.
Not that I'm sad about leaving. I'm excited.
It's just...
You know.
Memories.
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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