atendante, parto unu

it is little over a month until I will return to Girl Scout Camp
a long handful of miles and wishes away
maybe I won’t accidentally mess anything up this year
maybe it is just wishful thinking

in my dreams, there are dead and dying roses
hanging from the ceiling
preserved for all eternity
or at least until the next heat miser comes along

maybe if I sleep for seven hours
I’ll forget the way that cupcake tastes
that you handed me as I drifted along sleep
smiling in the abyss of oblivion

why are we always so black and white?
either we scream about love at the top of our lungs
or punch each other a one-way ticket straight to edgyville
no amount of flowers will drip out the grey now


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