Global Warming

December: 65 degrees and swinging,
curls tangling across my face.
The radio proclaims, your love is my drug
It could almost be summer
if only it was summer

summer

last summer

I'll rebuild the bridge years later
but that doesn't change last summer:
carefree, mindless
not my finest hour
but so
so

happy






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(NB: i'm not actually particularly emo. just striving for creativity. i wish i'd taken a creative writing class at some point [how did i not???]; i feel like my writing might be more viable if i had.)