poetry?

you're dad is getting older,

my brother is off to war,

you can smell the smoke on his clothes.

i look like my grandfather when he was 26

dodging bullets and raising flags.

he likes to walk around in the rain,

you're too tired to think,

he thinks you drink way too much caffeine.

you feel like your grandmother when she was 24

making quilts and raising kids.

Chapter 8: Anxiety

"If you bought those new jeans, then you'd fit right into my world." Samantha can't seem to get those words and that infectious melody out of her mind. What she doesn't quite understand about Andrew is how he can fake his way through confidence. She's always envied that. Its a strange night for Samantha as those thoughts run through her head. Laying on her chocolate colored leather, which has seen better days, the first breeze of spring passes over her body. She has candle burning to illuminate the dark room. The shadows it makes flicker across the living room walls and dance toward the paintings her friends made her a couple of years ago. Samantha's heart is still racing from the anxiety that she claims is bringing her down. Jamie and Amber have been waiting a couple of hours for her to show up. Wearing her new sleek black dress that she found on the discount rack at a Macy's store closing, and with freshly applied lipstick, Jamie looks over to Amber and says "Fuck Samantha. I'm so over this." Amber, wearing a pseudo red cowboy dress with white fringes hanging off the sleeves, quietly replies back "Seriously, fuck her."