sweetpea

Although I was fully clothed, I felt as naked as a child, waking up in the morning to a beginning of a different kind. Suddenly surprised by a beautiful song about the inevitable ending written for the likes of girls such as myself, I was in the midst of living out another fantasy. The song wasn’t for me or even for impressing me, but for just another body to acknowledge it was being played. I did not want to feed into the burden of want, where someone else would hold all the tickets.

The strings sounded like they would give out when the sun would finally be ready to touch my skin. The lack of shade from the windows gave me the feeling of struggling to live somewhere between the forgotten moon and the fragile morning light.