we would always sit criss crossed eating rose jam with our fingers in the back of the driveway it was times like this -the evening - she would take off her head scarf and let any passerbys gawk at her long flowing brown hair that glided across her porcelain skin
that was the type of peace i missed when she left (when they always leave) laying down on the warm summer driveway staring at the sky with the fresh smell of ambrosia's from her boyfriends antique flower shop filling our nostrils.
(she wasn't really allowed to date) but she did it anyway, she was a wild fiery spirit who did what she wanted when she wanted to.
and no one stepped in her way. i suppose that's why my heart got dragged along in the end. good people do bad things doesn't make them bad people their circumstances are just
different.
☁
this poem is kinda personal
(then again all of them are)
it's about my friend & her
struggles of finding herself
p.s -- she knows I wrote a
poem about her.
