june daydreams

I know I want red and colours that spark the glow in the sun, but when morning reaches my windows they melt my blankets in shades of grey. Moulds of shoulds and could-bes cloud the rest with ghosts of spring in the meantime, when all I need is sky. I need sky because I need myself, and at sunset I am nothing but the grey on the blankets and perhaps the gaps in layers of closet from june daydreams I’ve never thought of in seventeen hundred days.

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part of a series i'm still working on.