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Lemon IceI am sitting at home alone when the familiar tune ground out by the ice cream truck reaches my ears. I hesitate for a moment before getting up and scurrying to my room to grab a five-dollar bill. I walk outside as the van passes in front of my house and wave to the man driving it, money in hand. I split in two as I approach him. One part of me stands there, asking for a lemon ice, in too-big thrift-store-bought pants and a roomy sweatshirt, every bit a miserable and angsty teenager. The other part of me is in a bright yellow dress with bumblebees embroidered on it by hand, grinning widely with the whole-hearted eLemon Ice
by ~Loritheliwen
observation oo1Yellow paint fading with age sliding down like blood leaking out of a wound. Holes shaped perfectlyobservation oo1
like they were made with the strangest of b u ll e t s eat away at the perfect form of the cross. Cracks run all over this simple thing that seems dependable is really just a shape that is falling apart and was never that special to begin with.
by ~Loritheliwen
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- Interests: music & writing & belly dance
- Favourite band or musician: Thomas Newman
- Favourite genre of music: electronica
- Favourite style of art: prose && photography
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