july

it’s July and there’s sand in my bag and my white toe nail polish is chipped

and freckles are beginning to scatter across my face.

I feel longing for something both a little dangerous and a little comforting.

The mornings are warm and I’m woken up by a patch of sun on my pillow.

Red cherries for breakfast from the farmers market.

Reading in bed feels extra delicious,

I’ve been using a new perfume that smells of jasmine and vanilla.

I don’t feel super happy, and I don’t know why.

Summer sometimes is more joyful in theory, like a lot of things.

Summer blues, summer reds, summer pinks.

Summer of lust and loneliness and anger and excitement.