garden in the city

she wore a mustard yellow skirt in a grey city,
watercolored the streets a pale yellow as she crisscrossed
gliding from subway to skyscraper to sandwich shop

his bright blue slacks were sky against white washed buildings
which stood heavier than clouds
window panes neither filled with rain nor rainbows

they met at the corner of watsons and holmes
somehow they managed to spill into each other
though the traffic lights weren’t on their coffee break

their colors splattered against the crosswalk
stained each other at the intersection
buds of green grass were planted everywhere that day


half & half – 50% seen, 50% imagined
9.15.17, O., J., Planet Earth, Milky Way

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sweat, er.. weather

would this sweater be too much?

it’s just to take advantage of the cold to

wear something

i can stretch out in / snuggle into. even if i keep the fan on like

a mountain breeze.

i miss… / that

we try to talk without really saying

much of anything, we talk around

things, even though

(there is so much) i want to… (express). we try not to since

i think, someone once told us

there is a line here. they told us

it looks like a tripwire. we never checked,

why is that line here? it looks like a puppet

string.

let me put on my sweater.