I don't
know what poetry is
like I don't know what skies
or seas
or stars are
I don't know why you chose to match
teal summer
shorts with flip-flops
I only know your brunette-blonde
hair
blowing comfortably in the wind
Like a free spirit guiding
me with
maps of freckles on your seashell skin
Your
paisley ties, my fishtail braids
unraveled against the mahogany
boards
The ocean washed away our worries;
purged pedantic
heartache towards
illusory islands of innocence.
EntertainmentJun 20, 2017
Sweet Summer Poetry: 'Ignorance'
These are days we dream about when the sunlight paints us gold.
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