when i was young, i wore dresses.
my kindergarten teacher had very white teeth
and very sad eyes.
she talked excitedly, mostly.
i spent all my time in the clinic though.
i never got sick.
i looked at the ceiling, marred with water stains.
shapes, shapes.
just like watching clouds.
or getting lost.
then they started leaving. one by one by one.
first, there were long days.
and i got glasses
and insecurities.
but i just say to myself
“don’t take death so personal”
and i mean it.
it could’ve been seconds.
it could’ve been years.
PJ Ryan
this is a beautiful piece of writing .. you should put it in your folio.
abigailswallow:
thank you (:
PintaPinta
i think it’s how you’ve turned water marks on the ceiling into clouds in the sky that kills little bits of my heart here and there. your writing is sharp and acute and elusive and evocative abigail. i adore it… and agree with pj.
abigailswallow:
thank you so much. you are too good to me (: