bumble

Buzzing bees around your head, a crush becoming realized as Cupid’s arms and arrows sweep across his cherub body at a painted target. Eyes meet and it feels like everything is good and nothing could ever hurt – Nothing but the imagined rejection of that which is desired. A conversation is an Olympic feat. Words fail and get caught choking inside constricted throat. Bumbling about, walking in circle, trying to have the conversation with yourself. Your new, freshly molded mind. Sprinkling pixie fairy dust over fluttering eyelashes. Your voice sounds hollow and not your own. Like it’s someone else’s voice vibrating in your chest, but you’re controlling the simple, stupid words that come out. Summer day flowers and forehead sweet sweat trickling down your hairline. Marvelous crunch of toast for the morning breakfast ritual long forgotten. Airy, lightheaded dream. These light blue Care Bear colors against a backdrop of white clouds will not last forever. Easter pastels, the reward in itself of love and falling into it like a big dark pool with sky reflected. And the water is crisp and clear and will never freeze over because –

Author: Roe

29. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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