That One Scarf

That One Scarf

There is this one particular scarf that follows me across the city.

You probably know the one, you’ve probably seen it,

as many times as I have. I’ve known it for as long as I can remember.

It is cheaply made from felt, soft but easily frayed,

and patterned with plaid, black and white with red veins, on drab beige.

My dad has one, and I don’t know where he got it, where they all get it from,

but I recognise it like a beacon every time I see it wrapped around the neck of another

person in the subway or on the sidewalk.

The wearers vary immensely— not all of them are middle-aged Italian fathers. I’ve seen it on college students, on old women. People young and old are united by this strip of

cloth that loops them together

through time and space.

My eyes follow the scarf when I see it on the street, and it greets be like an old friend, a

reminder of

where I came from

and

how lucky I am to still be here.

office angels

“Nine Unheard Messages…”

“Hey, it’s me. I jus-“

“Message Skipped.”

“Hi. Did you get my last mes-“

“Message Skipped.”

“Hello? Are you doi-“

“Message Skipped.”

“Hey! Answer m-“

“All Existing Messages Deleted.”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound reverberates inside my skull like pounding fists.

shut up. Shut Up. SHUT UP.

Wait. Wait. Oh.

The fists are real. They’re real this time.

I drag my feet to the door and look through the aperture. Just in case. Just in case.

And the knocking stops.

It’s her. It’s her.

Maybe if I just ignore her. Pretend that I’m not home.

“Peter, I can hear you. Just let me in.”

Mad.

We’re in the living room. She’s suddenly uncomfortable. I know why but I wish I didn’t.

“You know that Ed Sheeran song about angels dying because it’s too cold?”

She nods.

“Well I always thought that was strange because when I picture an angel it’s all white and bright and pretty. And that’s the color of snow. I always thought of angels as cold creatures, so the thought of one freezing to death never made sense to me.”

She brings her eyes up to mine.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“People think differently. It’s not all the same. We’re not all the same.”

li~quid ca~ndy

right now I’m sittin’ in the backseat sippin’ on a strawberry Fanta that you say tastes too sweet But I say tastes like liquid candy I guess I guess I guess I guess I say that too often, don’t I?

You ask me to join you. And I ask why. You say that you miss me. And I ask. why.

I wanna go back. I wanna go back to. When I was sittin’ in the backseat sippin’ on a strawberry Fanta that you said tastes too sweet. But I said tastes like liquid candy.

circle of sky

here, the sky doesn’t go on forever. it stays draped between the trees. it stays just overhead and just out of reach. it’s private and constant. it’s ever-changing and perfectly familiar.

here, the sky is a personal thing. here, the sky is separate from everything else. here, the sky has it’s own place.

it fits in well with my fantasy, this piece of sky, deep purple, dotted acrylic stars peeking out behind lazy watercolor clouds, the moon’s iridescence lighting up the small world around me.

this piece of sky isn’t much

but it’s mine

background of life

she’ll be laughing and crying and she won’t be denying that her emotions are way too out of whack

she’ll be singing sweetly and speaking meekly ‘cause her voice has never had her back

and she has always known that she is just an extra in the background of life

pass the happy!! when you get this, reply with 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people in your notifications!! 💖❤️

1. My friends!2. My dogs!3. My hometown4. Validation lol5. HugsThank you for the happy!