flutter

e has a thing for indie tunes, so we were sitting in the hardwood floors in the low light of my living room and listening to her favorite arctic monkeys track. the cat snuggles into e’s arms; the flickering light of the vanilla candle wavers in his yellow eyes.

it’s wednesday and we feel like we’re flying, watching the shadows dance in the ceiling, lying on blankets, talking about the stars with intermittent silence. the quiet is comfortable and we enjoy the sad indie jams and think about life.

the record player hums, the bass buzzes in our ears, and my mind continually wanders to marigolds and the shade of orange in the sunset that night.

it reminded me of ashes crumbling to the ground after someone taps their cigarette. the paintings on the wall come alive in my mind. i become consumed by the music, and i capture these feelings in my mind.

nostalgia for the present moment.

e still has daisies in her hair from earlier that evening, and i notice she’s fallen asleep.

-i hope she dreams of a wide open lavender field and monarch butterflies tonight

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Megan is a writer, poet and visual artist. She lives with her cat son Felix in South Texas and enjoys tea, fuzzy blankets, most foods, and reading. Here, you can find bits and pieces of what she’s working on.

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