November 28, 2011
are etched into my arms
Like scars
Running deep into my blood
Whispering my past
In the middle of the night
Are tangled in his yellow hair
The color of golden apples
Swirled in sweet caramel
Are cracks in the wall
Engraved before our time
Hung like wallpaper
Painted like the sunset
Are maps in my brain
Folding into paper planes
Soaring across the world
To return in paper hats
Are stories in my heart
Bouncing off my ribs
Telling of never lovers
With promises of always
Are scribbled in my childhood
Of lazy summer days
Told in the story of chalk
Crayon and marker
Before I learned to write
That whisper to me in the dark
And reflect off my bedroom walls
And rest inside my head
Until I write them down

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