as the melodies of Ani float in the apartment.. distant memories of the past and giggles flow through the room with ease and I cant help but try to push these awful memories aside.
the ground below me is brown, like dirt but hardened wood that creaks beneath my toes.
the hush of water pours onto the plates,clink clink goes the dishes.
a strum interrupts this sound and a car zooms past my window.
Each strum flickering with the assurance of the finger tips of its owner.
As rhythmic as breath
as romantic as hand holding
the lips of this poetic owner are wetted
with the pangs of a cramp
itching and stretching out each menstrual awakening
Each Day in and Night out
each uncomfortable switch;
each heat wave that slips between her legs and over her half exposed chest.
tongue laps at what little moisture is left on her lips;
and she's there.
we are there; here on this hot hot hill.
melting
reforming
bathing in cold laps of water just to forget
summer of 09.
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