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she was redheaded.
she was redheaded,
with freckles that scattered her cheeks
so many you could have thought
they were stars in the midnight sky--the ones you hope
never go out.
so many that you could play
connect-the-dots with them or perhaps
watch the constellations begin to align. i wonder
if she would laugh if i told her
that i could see Orion forming on her cheeks.
her eyes are ones the color of seafoam,
dissolving and bubbling like medicine tablets--
they're just so addictive. sometimes i think
that her eyes are the ocean itself
and i have drowned in their depths. the salt is a
stinging sensation in my eyes as i hit rock bottom.
i outreach a hand to the surface
but it's already too late, the air has already
left my lungs in a final exasperated breath
and the water starts to take its place.
she was redheaded, thick hair
the color of the sunset when it is
just beginning to fade. the sun peeking over the earth
rays of light always searching
but never finding [anything] or [anyone].
her hair covered the nape of her neck
like a set of curtains
not yet drawn into a ponytail. her hair covered the nape of her neck
as if she had something to hide. are you hiding
a window to the inner workings of your mind or perhaps
what's really going on backstage? i'll never quite know.
she was redheaded,
but i suppose that doesn't really matter
when she was just another sideways glance
on the subway.