Oak Park Library is currently closed and will re-open on Monday, Dec. 18 at 9 a.m.
we are living on borrowed time
the green of spring will soon fade to browns
struggling to breathe and blaming it on allergies
blood is pulsing through my veins and my fingertips
this isn’t my bathroom floor this is real life
there is no second chance
he wouldn’t meet her eyes
when he told her that he met someone,
suggesting they take a break to figure themselves out.
“but I love you,” she said over the lump in her throat,
eyes burning with unshed tears.
“there’s nothing for me to figure out.”
It was mid-October and I was laying outside under the large oak tree reading a novel. The tree’s branches swayed in the wind, arms moving as if they were protecting the leaves and everything surrounding it. As I was flipping the pages, I shifted my weight under the crunch of the dead leaves.