#likethewayabirdfalls

[quintential]

Woven into my hair

I am warm,

perhaps i can be as the sun is to the moon, i will give but you will not take it from me.

and cool.

i will spit into a cup, and dip my fingers in and paint a pretty picture with it. it will not be pretty, or even so much there. it will smell like spit.

I will be... embellished. A shiny something or other that catches your eye, maybe you will want to put it into your nest, like a crow does to a piece of tinfoil. But never curl up beside it. More as, the kind of pretty treasure you do not like, but will keep buried deep, for safekeeping, because you cannot bear to get rid of it.

and maybe,

simple. The feel of cloth thats been washed too many times. maybe a little rough, but certainly I will not smell too strong one way or the other. Unless you lean in too far to smell my hair, which will then smell like hair.

I am forgiven, and in some ways

i never can be.

i will smoke a cigarette on the balcony and take a deep breath of my fingers, they will smell smokey, like a barbacue, but not in a good way. Like meat that's gone bad, and something else quite unpleasant.

I will scrub my feet afterwards, and wonder how much my mother worries about me.

That's about all it will be.