When you are twenty three
I hope you feel like you hold the sky
diamond and endless
in your hands,
even if it’s really running down your knees.
I hope you don’t mind dirty shins
spattered with the yellow of your fears
green of your dreams
and violet frustration.
When you are twenty three
I hope sugar tastes like midnight
not crumpled jean paper,
as it crumbles so sweet
alongside your teeth.
I hope you never forget how to smile
with pre-teen confidence
messy hair
and matching underwear.
When you are twenty three
I hope love rests upon your pillow
instead of a marble hand
resting on your shoulder,
stationary.
I hope you move like leaves
through metal detectors
across concrete
and into jungles.
When you are twenty three
I hope you remember me
and the poem I wrote for you,
age twenty three.
______________________________________
WP #3: twenty three
Link your response to this prompt in the comments.
This is lovely, dear. ❤
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Oh thank you ☺️
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You’re so welcome 🙂
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Elegantly written, Kristiana! I wish twenty three was ahead of me, BUT it’s not. Chronologically, anyway. In my head, I’m however old I want to be. 😉
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Thank you ☺️
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😊
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Well written Kristiana. 👌
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Thank you!
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