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I always try to find reasons to laugh.

 

I hiccup in quiet if there are only tickles across the faucet handles, 

and a hiss escapes me as my thinnest lines slip down the metal grates.

 

I chuckle low and hearty when the reeds bend close and the creeks sigh, lazy, although

No one likes my cackle—sk sk sk sk—because it means the final taste.

 

I howl with cheer as I rush and dip towards and away from the sand, who always somehow manages to tag me, cheek in its face.

 

But some days, I can’t find it in me to laugh.

I lay languidly lost in the depression that cradles deep, high whines and the smell of blood flits above me.

 

I don’t bother.

 

 

Answer: The sound of water

Having graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with English Honors, Keesilla loves writing. From character development to rhetorical analyses to the pure vibrancy of words, every part must be savored like a warm pastry, which are one of the things Keesilla enjoys to bake when not reading, writing, or staring off into space. Insta: @luckandkees (yes, the pf is a picture of apples)
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