Wednesday, January 1, 2014

new years

got a tight dress and plans – 
a black dress
bright plans

didn’t get you, but got to –
got to tomorrow
tonight I got drinks

and fireworks
and debris (mine, yours, 2013’s)

got sore feet from dancing alone –
and confetti hair,
chapped lips

didn’t get home until early January –
and it was different

because a
year is
a year

(and next year I’ll have you)

whoever you are

1 comment:

  1. Ellie, I really love your blog and your poems :)