When you wander, it's not necessarily because you're lost or because you're looking for something. Sometimes, it's like looking through an old photo album, wandering for the sake of discovering what has been there the whole time, like realizing you and your cousin wore the same yellow party dress, like searching the dusty corners of your being to find the place where your soul calls home.
She turned blue as the kiddie pool.
Face down in a vat of
whisky she drowned in
a paisley printed gown
drink drink, drink it down
slowly like a sin
quickly as a verse.
Here comes the bride,
a costume for the chaos inside.
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