(no subject)
Big flakes like the ones falling outside my window remind me of waiting for my mom to pick me up from school one night in eighth grade. I was really waiting for a boy I loved to say goodnight and kiss me on the cheek. Now he fights for a war I don't believe in.
I walked through the streets this afternoon with my trombone-playing professer, a man in a wheelchair, a girl with green powder all over her eyes and thought about these things.
I walked through the streets this afternoon with my trombone-playing professer, a man in a wheelchair, a girl with green powder all over her eyes and thought about these things.