silly girls

As a kid I remember seeing imprints of leaves on cement streets.

As an adult

gum sticks on the sidewalk,

outside dirty bars and playhouses

cigarettes burn.

The fickle camaraderie stare,

you are there.

Blonde hair.

Horses mane, makeup pristine, you’re shining.

Crowd surrounds, she smiles.

looks down.

Your soul, its no mystery at all.

Clone copy of every other broad,

that never liked to look at books,

but magazines featuring lives of celebrities.

Tell me you like Plath, Ginsberg, the clarinet of Benny Goodman and

will you walk for miles with me and arrive no where?

Seems its frightening to just be.

Without reserve, I had the nerve to let go.

The lives of silly girls;

I explored it, got bored with it.

Very important persons sitting,

awaiting anything.

lana turner photo

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About Kelsey Grace Chavarria

Writing about thoughts that captivate me. The human experience as I see it. Also, I delight in the most beautiful thing, truth. View all posts by Kelsey Grace Chavarria

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