That night, when you left?
I went home and pulled out one of my mother's old vinyls.
It was a little scratchy, but I played it,
as the world spun slowly, in the dark.
I grew old and wise lying there.
I was a lady who knew the blues.
That night?
I was Billie Holiday,
faraway eyes and dying lilies,
bathed in the warmth of wonder and wear in a smoky bar in New Orleans.
I went home and pulled out one of my mother's old vinyls.
It was a little scratchy, but I played it,
as the world spun slowly, in the dark.
I grew old and wise lying there.
I was a lady who knew the blues.
That night?
I was Billie Holiday,
faraway eyes and dying lilies,
bathed in the warmth of wonder and wear in a smoky bar in New Orleans.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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