Met

I'm right on the brim of flying to the moon, hoping with the sweet breath that was taken by your lips that you'll be still in for the flight. For when I'm away, all I can possibly wonder is if you're wondering about the way our world spins on chocolate and cigarettes. The little addictions that just might put an end to our mad ideas when we get old and grey. It's similar to the sweet, bitter feeling of being purely addicted to being with you, simply for the possibility that if the sands of time were to run out, I know that I would be content. So plainly speaking, I'd like to sit at your feet as you scratch my messy head of hair while attempting to watch a popular flick that I had never heard of. I'd like to sit on the bench outside, breathe in the fresh air of the night, sprinkled with the slight exhale of a horribly hand rolled cigarette and talk about the first thing that comes to mind. There is no harm to consider the possibilities of never coming to an end in this written chapter, much less the possibility finding myself learning the Euopean metros with you. In all actuality, I wouldn't mind getting lost either.

I'm considering the idea of introducing you in my ever long, never ending saga of lunacy and absurd prattle, simply because I believe in fate. As long as the tide is pushing and the deep sea is pulling, our story will continue just as the sweet morning intends it to be. When I breathe that crisp air while by your sleepy side, I factually know that happiness by ordinary things is more than a mere coincidental spotting of a bluebird or the sweet gift of acting as the perch for an elegantly colored butterfly. In some fashion, you were given the other end of an empty Cambell's can, sheepishly connected to my whispered requests by a tattered piece of twine. With my hand in yours, my simple request for a refreshing afternoon in a grassy field was met.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading! I couldn't appreciate comments and feedback more!
Best,
Kara Marrissa O.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

although this is prose rather than poetry, it is very cool...

you are quite descriptive in an andy warhol sort of way in this piece..even with the campbell's soup can thrown in for good measure.

i like the refreshing afternoon in the grassy field...a girl who wants simple pleasure with a guy...

reminds me of the scene in "A Wonderful Life" when he asks Violet to up into the hills and take their shoes off and skinny dip...and she gets like "ew"

something Mary would love to have done.

really like your writing.

jacob

[kara_marissa]

Ah, the genre on the particular piece was so very cloudy to me. Thank you for clearing it up and for reading! It means the most!

[Just me]

I really like your style and how richly descriptive your work is. Thank you for sharing.

[kara_marissa]

I'm so very glad you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!