It’s Christmas outside, green/red lines stretch out like a cat at noon. I am galloping in the stars, cutting holes in the sky like crescent moons. But it’s almost morning and I need a place to rest, be quiet and color my pages in rainbows, like silver trees in purple lakes. Hey, Kitty, did you get over your grudge? Green/red eyes you keep blinking at me. I’m not listening to it anymore. I’m choosing to throw my reins out the window and not look back. I can bring you back flowers from windowsills stolen from dreams of honeycombs and lucky charms and horseshoes (yes, I get the irony. I always get the irony, it’s what I do). So are you in or out?
First published in Pyrokinection.