If Words Were Real

FREEDOM would be driving
with the windows down
and the spring air painting ribbons
through your hair like a lost Van Gogh.
It would be that Macklemore song
permeating the car
and swallowing those voices
with righteous lyrics of acceptance.

HOPE would be walking
with an ocean of possibilities ahead
and warm skin between your fingers,
tangled enough to reel you back.
It would be those eyes on you
never showing hate
and the salt water underfoot
not made of tears anymore.

BEAUTY would be dancing
with lights in your hair
and his laughter at your crooked tie
fixed with the trust in his hands.
It would be her pale eye shadow
turned to your heels
when your compliments rush out
and all around people are full of joy.


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