cushion feelings

lips
pressed together,
not pursed
but almost

sunlight
and cold winds,
juxtaposed
deceiving

there she lays
listless,
restless
beautiful

drag,
sunlight ripples through
the cracks between
the almost autumn leaves

addicted
to the drifting,
lightheaded
lighthearted

blinking neon, breathing beyond

About peanutt

Writing is like breathing; I live, I love, I write.
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