fireflies

maybe i want it, maybe i need it.

i want a jar of fireflies.

i want a lot of them piled up against the walls, the only lightsource. i want there to be a bed in the middle with red sheets and banisters and i want it to smell of diesel, because those who aren’t brave use petrol. I want there to be you.

i want it to be perfect.

i want to be  h a p p y.

 

i want to stand on tiptoes so i can taste the ozone. i want the air to be orange and for there to be a quality to it like an old Polaroid or late summer nights. i want to feel normal in a sundress and i want to wear a pair of heels without buggaring my knees.

 

i want the gash in my finger to heal. i don’t want the bruises to fade. i want to be left handed ambidextrous. i want to be able to spell really long words that take me three ages to write out and i want my writing to shrink because then it would be as small as i feel and i want my hair cut short and i want it turquoise and i want to be pretty and i want to smell good and i want to be polite and id like to be able to use grammar but it just doesn’t seem to work for me.

 

i want to be peaceful and still.

i want a pet dragon.

i want a jar of glow worms and i will call them fireflies because they will burnburnburn out like myself as i lay in my deathbed alive.

Author's Note

i dont like capitals, nor grammar. please excuse me <3

Reviews

[JC]

i really dig the imagery you conjure, its like a really good dream, and the crossed out left handed, brialliant, its like stealing glances into your notebook.

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

I adore the payful manifestation of imagery and the dance of words so daintily strung~ it is that lovely underplay that gives the poem power~ the innocent pulse of the narrator is delightful~ gorgeous imagery~