I’m longing for a piece of me that strayed away long ago. Summer fever and blank stares at endless sunsets. The marmalade hues get intertwined in my eyes. I let it numb me until I’m forced to sink back into reality. If recklessness means accepting a piece of finality without caring, then I wear recklessness like a fucking veil. There’s layers to my sadness, but I can’t fill any part of it with solitude. I’m much too impatient- I skip to the part where the princess leaves the prince. Watch her steal from the kingdom and burn the whole thing down. Run away from it all and say she didn’t see a thing. I yearn for that type freedom and the pieces of my youth that couldn’t fully bloom. I’m the fucking drought. I choke out the roots before they even have a chance. I hold my hands up to the world for some sort of mercy and feel it step on my spine. I buckle from the pressure and taste the dirt under my tongue. But that piece of me is still out there- she’s licking her wounds and trying to water gardens that aren’t hers. She’s chasing those same sunsets and fooling princes into lying for her. A sticky act of repentance for every part of the story that made her hurt. Made her unwell. Made her run away in the first place. -AMT ©️