Poems from pixandpens
Sliding, sliding, sliding down the yellow slide
Back to when I was only five
Back to the sandbox, wooden swing set and towers so high....
Again.
A scorching night of booze-inspired yells lingers in the air.
The Heat causes the mistakes to stick to the yellowed, resin walls and...
When I've got a whirlpool in my mind
And it's spilling out of my eyes
On to creamy paper that tries
To soften the splatters of a
Melancholy...