Red SidewalksFlame is a girl who likes writing poems on her palms.Red Sidewalks3 years ago in Literature More Like This
She writes wishes on them, too, and wouldn't wash them for days until her aunt shoves them under a running faucet and scrubs them clean until Flame cries.
Mommy, Daddy I
didn't mean to
She loves drawing as much as writing, and etches family portraits on to the side walk until the rain comes from the heavens, and it becomes far too obvious what that red line above their heads are for. The little girl survives, every time. All smiles with a silver crown, she stands alone under an over-turned plastic box. She is like the last bomb survivor of Hiroshima: there but has the sickness in the marrow of her bones.
Her eyes are always looking at the past, they're supernovas of the sun; a thousand million molecules and atoms exploding and sucking everything in with them. Her hair is and shriveled like the last tomato on the vine and as bright as bl