jog

to keep up ideas that were
made for this haven’t kept her down
but she was far past the judgment
of such a type, she had no consideration
of thoughts which have made others see her that
way, she wished patience as a thing others should
have not as a way of correction or pity but
rather as a need for them to have it without an
awareness that she was already blessed with
the right amount; and when, if reminded that
she wasn’t appropriately in tune with that particular
attribute of virtue which she obviously
displaced with great courtesy, she would see the Technicolor
storm, she would reply some words which would deflect the realism of what was being said, and become more
with herself in one smile’s moment, the month when she butterflied when she didn’t speak was torture to her friends and sometimes the mere mention on her weekend
that was a nice moment off
she would laugh
“wasn’t this whole life mine?”
didn’t speak was torture to her friends

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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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