New Lips

Rambling,

I do that often.

I wonder if it’s like white noise to you, as you drive us through the forest, with trees, as you would describe, that kiss the sky.

Rambling,

‘I’m afraid of feathers.’ I say. ‘I just can’t. They creep me out’, as if that utterance disrupted the white noise.

‘Why? What about feathers creep you out?’

‘Idk, like if a feather landed on my lips I would have to get new lips.’

Shock, laughter, and confusion became your face. And you replied, ‘Always learning something new about. New lips. Where would you even get new lips?’

Rambling…

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