I'm a canvas for the world.
The sunlight forms ripples on my skin,
Streaks my hair golden-brown.
As my elbow digs into the bed,
The matted covers print it
With a psychedelic pattern.
The scruffy flower
Drawn on my arm by a friend
Is still there.
Faded but content-
A grand tribute to the last row.
The 'FLOWER' label scrawled next to it
Enjoying its lack of subtlety.
And the music.
As it washes over me,
It paints me with so many colours-
A velvet plum,
The green of woods on a misty winter morning.
If you look carefully, you'll notice them.
They glow when I smile.
Has been carefully written out
On my mind.
The letters entangle themselves
In one another;
Straighten out, skip and spin.
I feel like I can sense the earth spin,
Hear it hum.
Not a twitch escapes me,
Not a whisper goes unheard.
And I know I'm not alone.
Do you know it too?
I can hear you listening,
I see you seeing.
P.S- I have to say something else. It's semi-relevant, because it's to do with winter. From now on, I will wear shawls.
I am never going to be thin, and giving up on birthday/christmas cake is a leetuhl too painful. Hence, I am going to be resourceful. La Shawle will come to my rescue.
It hides bulges. In case you're wondering, stoles aren't as flattering.
It actually looks pretty sexy.
It is ethnic. I am tired of the abundance of western-wear.
I hope I have the guts to carry out my resolution, because the idea IS appealing. I just have to find the right kind of shawl-manufacturer. Modify the garment, to make it more teenagerish.