ithaca festival
The sun is bright. I’m squinting my eyes and trying to avoid looking at you. Your muscular form is drawing every part of me that is female towards you. The soft definition in your arms, shown off by the tank top I gave you so long ago. Your hands. Your torso. I wish I had sunglasses so I could stare at you and you wouldn’t know. Talking, laughing and not acting more partial to you than anyone else. Points for me. Then the wind shifts. And you smell like you always did. The way you smelled when I kissed you goodnight. The way you smelled when we cuddled and watched movies. The way you smelled when I cried in your arms. And the way you smelled when I said goodbye. When you fell asleep in my bed, but the space between us was cold. When we walked away. And now we’re standing here awkward and unsure. What should be said? We haven’t spoken in over a month and everything between us is heavy in the air. Tired of this old game, I need to leave. Float away on the wind to another time and place. Then the crowd surges and I slip away. Back to hide from how I feel.
The sun is bright. The clouds are gorgeous and the sky is blue. A breeze makes leaves move in a dance, trying to hold on to their branches. People are smiling and children are laughing. Today is beautiful.
The sun is bright. The clouds are gorgeous and the sky is blue. A breeze makes leaves move in a dance, trying to hold on to their branches. People are smiling and children are laughing. Today is beautiful.