Sundays

Sundays

The sun feels like an oven

as it seeps through the hot blinds

Toasting my skin

Blazing through my eyelids

The girls are cackling

The garbage truck is beeping

It's morning

It's Sunday

It's the thought of going to Church

But being too lazy instead

and trying to celebrate God here

in 

wrapped up bundles

layers like cake

Cake in bed

The songs are so beautiful

They fill your eyes with

crystals

and gems 

Netflix plays on the loop

and you crave for anything happy

and easy going

To get your mind off

of work

of pain 

the pain that you've accepted

You think of the boy from the night before

What did we say

Why did we laugh

The plate of fries

you guys devoured

It felt like

for the first time

you were a normal girl

Not crazy

Not used

Not insulted

Maybe even pretty

Maybe even beautiful

Sundays

Are for long bike rides

Pretending like you know where you 

are going 

watching the leaves glide

slice

float

through the apple-crisp air

there must be a God

if dying trees

can look this good

Sundays

are for friends

for dumb conversations

and time to feel good

and lazy

Sundays

are 

for me

to be okay

with 

me.

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                                                                                                           -teeny,tiny&terrified