By: Lyda Martin
There is no ease
With which we climb these trees
No ease, no ease
Is nothing easy worth the pursuit?
I am so disappointed
I was not born an angel
There’s this one song I remember
I turned it off: it was too happy
This is not dramatics
No, it’s not dramatic at all
No love, no love, not love at all
You are nothing answering me.
Yes, I think I am in love with you
I realized it a month ago
They do drugs together
But we, we kiss
Six years and so much music
Six years, and so much music to be had
And there is a highway, and then the train tracks
And then the streets named after states
There is a little boy, without his shirt on, biking noisily across the wooden bridge. You can see his ribs. You are not sure if that is normal for a child. You have not seen a child in a while.
I’ve been obsessed with angels lately. I’ve been obsessed with you.
Art Piece by Clementine Vale