I’m at blue carpet washing over dust bunnies and dog hair,
over unmade covers and freshly-shed tears I’m at a place beyond crossroads I have made my choice to not choose someone who chose me I am at standstill Watching the gray-white puffs of engine chugging away from me without me My coach class ticket for two smothered by my fingers Someone once told me, "Stations always make me sad. They remind me of farewells." But what happens when stations are also beginnings and what if that’s sad too? The vast body of sky is my beige, wrinkled ceiling and its press on my shoulder blades on my sadness is heavy as this breath I’ve yet to let go, this uncertainty of staying put while those who love you go on I wonder if these walls can contain the noise my heart is making It sounds like birds singing I don’t know if they’re singing for freedom or because they’re free
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KatA young adult. Archives
April 2020
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