Fresh Plus

fresh

My eyes are wide open, not dried nor dazed or creepishly staring at a person

My nose bringing in air to my organs, not breathing heavily nor flaring or high up in the air

My lips posed in silence, not smiling nor grinning or pursed with no mixed angst

 

But

 

When I think of –

 

Peeled apples on a bowl

Gabby’s pampers

My scraped knees at age 7

The sunrise

32 emails in my outlook inbox on a Sunday morning

Birthday flowers

Wrapping paper

Page 1 of every book I open to read

When my feet sinks into sand in the beach

December rain

A car crash

Blackberry’s blinking red

Standing infront of the library doors

An exam printed on paper

Passports

George fucking Clooney

Deep fried fish

An Oscar

 

Trust me I’m –

 

Alright

 

It’s just that I believe in circles, a process and an intake

It’s just that I’d like to feel space, more than an arm’s length and a call away

It’s just that I’m okay, I’m okay, and I’m okay

 

But

 

My eyes

My nose

My lips

 

Remembers everything.

 

 

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