For Fear of Drifting

October 11, 2017

Her braids are soft like a ballerina dancing in a song.
His thumbnail is slightly shorter than the other nails.
Together, they are a lonely beaten

miracle. Their color paints their skin,
they glow like a wild rainbow.
She tastes sweet

hot chocolate on his lips. He puts purple wildflowers in her hair
from the rundown house with
the red shutters and the red roof.

The house a dusty yellow like the old book
full of scary stories her mother gave to her.
They lay together, like otters when they sleep

at night so they do not drift

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tyleroconnell said...
Nov. 16 at 8:53 pm
Your poem has gorgeous, almost dreamlike images. It definitely caught my attention and gave me a sense of longing.
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