poetry | prose

 
eleven o'clock on a friday (i miss you.)

i wish people never had to leave.

and while i'm at it,
children should never grow up
and baby cousins should stay little forever.

the people who are meant to be together
should actually be together
and never have to be apart.

stars should be close enough to touch.
and jupiter should be made of rock instead of gas,
so people can live there.

and my hair should really be red
because suddenly i feel so fake.

imagine that world.

millions of happy couples
with ever-young children
living on jupiter
and me with real red hair.


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Please do not use without permission.