Air
We can’t live without
Yet sometimes we can’t live with
It can still kill us
Water
Wet, so very wet
Salty or not, might not be
The safest for me
Earth
Ashes to ashes,
We are born, then we die but
The earth consumes us
Fire
Cozy and warm, but
Dangerous and Delicate
Dancing and Moving
About the Creator
Anne Pedersen
Freelance writer, confident notebook carrier, procaffinator, and all-round neurodiverse Danish viking word nerd living in the United States.
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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