Probably not as funny as I think I am
Insta @chloe_j_writes
slow, unwilling march; keep getting pushed to the edge, but never ready.
By Chloë J.about a year ago in Poets
old VHS tapes, glass jar sodas, sleepovers, and a dash of hope.
hoop skirts, corsets and rebellion; the guillotine unleashed blood rivers.
steel, silver, raiding; kingdoms fought to exist, then rose and fell, sword-stopped.
acne, team sports, and homework; travelled in a pack, and felt more alive.
Christmas trapped in a snowglobe; the one before it all went wrong; my gift.
slow when you’re a child, then the ball gains speed; downhill; quickly races on.
Blink-the seasons changed. Blink-the years slipped by. Blink-ask, where did your life go?
catch lightning, wield wind, hold a storm cloud in your hands; feel time slip away.
I live inside an hourglass; but there’s no one there to flip it over.
Sidecars, champagne, jazz, flappers and pretend freedom; dancing on the edge.
Bombs fell, people died. Battles raged, civilians wept; was it then, or now?