notes app of a teenage girl

text note 11/12

crisp air,
rosy cheeks
and the tip of my nose as well.
rows of crows singing misunderstood
on top of my head
my hands hold this pen
while i think of all the Christmases I have left.
the sound of my steps
on this spent sidewalk
echoes melodies of my childhood,
this little town a coat so warm and worn.
walls stained of greasy memories and packed with stories,
my hands flowing with poems i never held.
the wind in my hair won't ever be the same.