Two-hundred and Fifty-six: Pixie

she smiles through golden screens,
spinning dreams like wool,
too clean for london sidewalks.
and i find it hard to fault her,
but then i lose it again because
our shadows overlap.
i like to take pictures of her,
silhouettes of her soul.
she is a pixie tourist
living on peanut butter and mai tais.
shy eyes and leigh lips and she
might be silent but she never lies.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

8 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Fifty-six: Pixie”

      1. “I adored your words before I ever knew your smile,” he whispered softly into her ear, in a dark corner of their favorite bar, “but its the fire in your eyes that I fell in love with.”

  1. yowsa! both you and hope are so insanely talented, i couldn’t even imagine. I can only guess you’re also both those little fantastic foxy girls that break every boys’ heart at the bar.

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