04-02-2018, 08:47 PM
haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
Wishbone is content with Tangerine’s brief answer. She is on the cusp of her first year, still growing and learning about the world around her, but she is rather intelligent. She knows enough to pick up on the hints that circulate around her — even finding a clue in the way the painted mare’s mouth moves into a sleepy smile. It’s enough for her to come to her own genuine conclusions.
The mahogany girl shrugs off her suspicion, rolling her shoulders into a heavy shake that cleanses both the sourness in her stomach and a puff of dirt off her back. She locks away the name to memory — Tangerine, the woman of her father’s affections — and begins to move closer, the shifting blades of grass parting against her chest like an emerald sea. Wishbone’s ears prick up at the proposition Tangerine brings.
She’s never been one to stand down mystery or the possibility for adventure. “Sure.”
The mahogany girl shrugs off her suspicion, rolling her shoulders into a heavy shake that cleanses both the sourness in her stomach and a puff of dirt off her back. She locks away the name to memory — Tangerine, the woman of her father’s affections — and begins to move closer, the shifting blades of grass parting against her chest like an emerald sea. Wishbone’s ears prick up at the proposition Tangerine brings.
She’s never been one to stand down mystery or the possibility for adventure. “Sure.”
@[Tangerine]