february by Natalye Childress

for three days, breathing

the same air. for a short hour,

standing in the same flurries.

it won’t always be this way,

   but at least we have the moon.

if only you could see it. but

your night sky is lit up like a

   football stadium. it’s lit up like

a fucking christmas tree.

Natalye is just a happy kid stuck with the heart of a sad punk.

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