Blissed out.
My heartbeat feels
like a chore
on this late afternoon Wednesday.
blue-sky covered
by hazy-grey cotton clouds.
I want to swaddle myself
with honeysuckle and grow old
in this heat while thinking
about teen heartthrobs
from my youth.
Me and my gang,
we were marigolds and bluebells
wearing our jean shorts
and butterfly clips in hair
that did not require color-safe
or sulfate-free shampoo
we crunched chips at midnight
with scoops of French onion dip
and laughed ourselves into summer.
4 thoughts on "Blissed out."
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Great job capturing the languid feel of these slow, warm days, and the longing for old summer memories.
Agree with Leah, great capturing of memory.
And so much in this phrase:
heartbeat feels
like a chore
I love how you captured that carefree feeling of childhood summer days at the end of this poem. Take me back!
I can relate to this, not from the perspective of being one of the game, but from a poet’s respect for the word you present here.