Friday, June 9, 2017

Freedom Smells Like New York Summer

Freedom smells like New York summer spilling through my car windows. It looks like a red streaked cloud painted on top of a sunset and like s’mores and shadows made by our campfire. Freedom is bold, daring, and it calls my name even though I am neither. It chooses me and I cannot not refuse.
Freedom is when my brother says, “I’m glad it’s pretty for you out here.” But it’s also bondage because I need it to be pretty. For the sake of freedom, freedom itself is offered up. The card that’s traded is up to fate and fate is a gambler so I can’t be sure this is really the right choice.
Freedom feels like being handed the moon and it’s hard because I never had the moon to deal with before. Do you smother it or keep it on a string? What happens when you have to let it go?

Freedom feels a lot growing up and it fits me well like this lacy strapless dress. I couldn’t live without it again. I just wish that gaining my freedom didn’t have to mean giving so much of it up.

May 18, 2017

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