You are
a bathroom stall poet,
scrawling your odes
to the road ahead
in lipstick smears on the walls.
A trail of tears.
Leaving your mark
where you've been,
before you up
and leave again.
A chameleon
worshiping at the ceramic throne,
white powder dusting your nose,
vomit left like
lose change on the ground below.
Your once glowing heart
now dulled and stained
with memories of yesterday
that flow down drains of history.
Never staying
in one place.
No stand still,
always after
the thrill of the chase,
but never wanting to stay
for the soft embrace.
Too scared to taste
the way happiness feels
when it isn’t laced with hurt,
like the scalding
coffee from the services
hitting your throat.
You relish the burn,
or so you tell yourself,
except in those quite moments
when the words come loose
and paint themselves over the notepad
that sits battered and bruised.
You left your roots dyed
in someone else’s bed.
You left your hope tied
to the dread
of being wanted
just for being you.
You swore off connections.
Severed emotions until your words
flowed like ice
stone still and not very nice.
Deleted the numbers
from your phone,
you scrawled
your heart on the walls,
screening all incoming calls.
in fear that one day destiny
may call and say
those words to you.
You are wanted
for just being you.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
No comments:
Post a Comment