Dang it all why does inspiration come at two oh three am?
I'm listening to the wind blow Grandma’s wooden wind chimes
together to the
rhythm of mother natures clock.
I can hear them out back so clearly because I'm (making an attempt at) sleeping with my windows open.
go to sleep
but actually I do.
even though I like the idea of falling asleep with my window open
(like I've always wanted to)
(like the girls in my class always do)
and letting the cool breeze tickle my hairs across my face during the night,
like the gentle hand of an ever-watchful parent,
I can not.
because my mind is filled with all those stories from tv shows about
those girls who get
& lost forever
because they leave their windows unlocked at night
and as it turns out, those aren't just shows, that's real life all over the world and so
who am I
To contemplate complaining?
about not having a cool breeze across my
well fed face in my
cushy soft bed inside my
safe comfortable house?
Who am I to contemplate complaining?
I get up
Because even though it might be safe and it might be okay just this once
and the breeze would feel so good and I could finally be that girl-
I have enough
and I don't want to tempt fate and--
This social stigma has ruined a soft part of me.
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