A Sun-Stained Hideaway
An old barn
A group of friends
Plants and trees
Butterflies all around
Laughter fills the air
To drown the evil
Rain pouring
The sky lighting up
The clock ticking
Livin’ while they can
All summer long
An old barn
A group of friends
Plants and trees
Butterflies all around
Laughter fills the air
To drown the evil
Rain pouring
The sky lighting up
The clock ticking
Livin’ while they can
All summer long
I wonder what it would be like to be a queen.
To have power handed to you in the presence of marriage.
To have a king by your side, a kingdom in your view.
The most beautiful, respected woman.
Having power over the people. The riches.
I sit here and wonder what it would be like to be a queen, but then the thought comes again.
I wonder what it would be like to be a king, and to have a queen beside me instead.
Maybe I am not missing being a queen, but being in the wrong body entirely.
I fool myself with these thoughts of confinement.
I will never ever be a queen let alone a king, I am a simple girl in the mist of the chaos of hierarchy.
So far from the top my mind gets lost in the order as I turn on the news to hear more of politics. I wonder was I born in the wrong body or just the wrong time. Should I have be born at all?
I breathe in when the thought reoccurs.
I just want to be a king.
“hey, it’s been a while
medicated
is the only answer
for this
to sleep like a thing
thats nearly dead
and can’t think
or dream
Fog on glass
from each
nonexsistant word.
Fingerprints
entertwined with
lips outer edges.
Curtains parted
as longing hands
caress glass
waiting
for no one.
strawberry full moon
count my past sucked dry
your stems spit to the side
tomorrows darken
ripe for the picking
crystalline tart coolness
inside a rough husk
the old man’s shaved face
promises nothing
the surface of loss
never speaks
the lovers and children
who harvest merriment
leave with their hands empty
barking remonstrance and pleasure
as if forever
means no consequence
