green in judgement/cold in blood

What with all my journals, notebooks, books, and dictionaries in a storage locker in Texas, it was with great delight that I stumbled onto an old, forgotten writing blog online.  My voice speaks from distant years!  With no editing:

A hard breeze comes off the lake, fooling my hair into imagining that it is not in a ponytail, until up is down and more is down than up. Tension plays with my back, tightening the muscles under the skin of my upper arm which has gone lavender and yellow. Bruising has brought a new spring to my body; new colors showing every day until presumably the floral riot will fade away.
I have crushed my water bottle between two rocks where it is anchoring my book bag to prevent me from knocking it off. I am still silent for the passers by, three boys in sports jerseys which hang low, exposing their beautiful brown young shoulders and backs. They are not talking, just walking, and we are all silent as they pass me by. It is then that I am sure that I am leaving.


or


i say those stars are beautiful and i mean you are beautiful.
i say the trees! the trees! all i mean is you.