my alter ego

Sometimes

I miss my grey boots & cigarettes. 

My hair a mess

standing on a train next to someone I’ve never met

Sometimes

I miss no one telling me what to wear

How to look and how to do my hair

I really took more pride in being rare,

than being pretty.

Sometimes 

I miss the urge of having to leave.

So no one else can see me.

I miss my talks with the trees,

And the ocean beneath me.