“Pretty” reminds me of piano keys.
Of summer evenings,
when the air kisses your bare
shoulders as you lounge on the porch,
with a glass of no-longer-cold iced tea.
It reminds me of lace
against a bare throat,
delicate and soft and
fluttering with every breath you take.
in the bare sand of a beach,
right before the foam smoothes it clean
“Pretty” reminds me of a million things:
a million moments of
It’s like the time I stood
in front of the mirror at home,
wondered how a person
—such as me—
is allowed to
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