The kitchen won't have as many spices,
a place for a cat with black fur and green eyes to play in the hall,
A mirror in my bedroom,
posters of films that affected me on the walls, pictures taken at the beach, with ones I love,
Art and poetry, no dogma, littering the rest of my space
In the closet, color and light, taste and fashion, as i please
Stacks of books,
stars on the ceiling,
curtain like Silk and gossamer
music and movement, swaying and jazz and love, and
maybe
not
as
much
jazz, actually,
but definitely love,
definitely Love
And I'll call a party and I'll shine like a girl at prom, flowers on my wrist,
in my hair,
on my table, fresh and kind,
and I'll lay out the food, the orange juice and the red wine,
and i won't be sorry, and I won't call and I won't keep keepsakes, and I'll know I'm living my life the way i am supposed to be living it, as one with myself,
I'll keep a cat named solitude, though,
i like kitty cats with understanding eyes
pink and blue and white,
Space for me and mine, you and yours,
harmony, Queen on the speakers,
and i will not be sorry, oh no i won't
Cot for a baby, wooden, white
lots of pink, wherever possible, and orange and eyeshadow blue, cobalt!
writer's note:
i was at ikea and obviously got emotional seeing all those stupid adorable furniture displays. I was thinking
of Matilda the song as i wrote this
20th of august
19:52
YOU ARE READING
august
Poetryi stole my father's cigarettes so you could scold me for smoking because you are my prettiest love affair.
