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Lyndsey Dec 2021
In my dreams
I'm finding you
beneath the stars,
on a sunny day,
in the rain,
on a clear night,
between the sheets,
in the middle of the afternoon,
before the sun comes up
...it will always be you.
Lyndsey Dec 2021
Summer always makes me restless.
It brings out the truth in my bones,
the ache, the dream, the internal screams,
that sit dormant
waiting to be heard
all year long.

The taste of heat soaked rebellion
mixed with too sweet air that clings to my lungs, leaving me gasping.
Sweat glistens at the base of my throat,
and I dare the sun to burn its image into my eyelids.

Summer makes me gaze at every plane overhead
wondering where they are going,
and if I can come too.
It would be so easy to board a flight,
destination unknown.
Following the horizon
and sunsets fading glow.

Clear sky nights,
flickering insect stars piercing the darkness,
a symphony of crickets and cicadas.
Warm air resting on my skin that still holds heat from the day.

I could spend forever chasing Summer.
Lyndsey Jun 2021
It's getting bad again.
That, Summer time
restless melancholy *******.
That, I want to crawl out of my skin,
drive into forever sunsets,
need my music so loud my ears ring.
That, frustrated with the mundane,
trying to stir up chaos,
wanting to be anywhere else
wanting to be anyone else.
That, feeling that suffocates me,
keeps me up at night
staring at stars,
at the clouded night sky,
staring into streetlights
until tears burn my eyes.
It's getting bad again
and I can't ******* stand it.
Lyndsey Jun 2021
Sometimes
the best thing about being young
is things can still seem incredibly romantic.

Sentiments wrapped in sweetness
that have me gazing at stars,
checking the clock for 11:11 to send up a wish.

Some part of me,
only a fraction by now,
still believes that there's magic in the world
and maybe two people
can be made for each other in some capacity.
maybe happy endings do happen.

I was pretty sure
that the world was just going to keep spinning
the same way it always had
and that I was wrong
for wanting to throw it off its natural course
but then you called me yours
and I found myself slipping.

Maybe,
my 11:11 wish for happiness,
my sentiments of sweetness,
my dreams of what could be,
would throw off someone else's orbit
but they fit perfectly in line with yours.
and so I cling to the moments
we gaze at the same sky

Because the best part about being older
is you know not everything is romantic
but sometimes they are
and that makes me believe in something.
I really struggled with a title for this one.
Lyndsey Jan 2021
you're stealing the air I surrender
while we're twisted in tantric sheets
I'm falling back into myself
on fire
melting with you
I forget how to breathe.
Lyndsey Aug 2020
I'm 16 and the sound of being seen is a new melody I can't get enough of.
Lies tasted like cinnamon and sugar off his tongue,
and I let him tell me them as we crashed onto the bed.

I'm 17 and the taste of rebellion, summer sun, and bad decisions is intoxicating.

I'm 18 and I think I have life figured out.

I'm 19 and I am screaming
"*******" from the hill tops.
I'm looking for answers in the arms of strangers.

I'm 20 and I find gentleness in the arms of a boy with steel blue eyes and cigarettes on his breath.

I'm 21 and alcohol doesn't solve anything,
but I watch my friends drown in it anyways.

I'm 22 and I think the world is against me.
I don't understand it's not for or against anyone.

I'm 23 and as the song goes,
"No one likes you when you're 23."
I find this to be true.

I'm 24 and I have been thrown onto rock bottom.
I can't see the top anymore,
and I don't have strength to even search for it.

I'm 25 and I have no purpose to my life.
No goals.
No drive.
I have an abundance of heartache
and I want to know why living
has to hurt so ******* bad.

I'm 26 and I want to die,
but I want to live too.
I have school,
that's something to work towards...i guess?

I'm 27 and honestly, life isn't bad.
I don't know what I want,
I don't know who I am but I'm learning.
I don't know what happens tomorrow, but I have today.

I'm 28 and...
Lyndsey Aug 2020
I am an open book,
but I do not lay splayed wide
with ink spilling off my pages.  
I wait for careful hands
to read between the lines
and dive into my story.
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