Hello Poetry Fam,
I found a home with you. Comfort. Release. Peace. Laughter. The wild. The free. The crazy. I once thought life was bland till I met you.
You took me in. Acceptance. Stripped me bare. Original. Very few ever hit that core. Family.
Write Young, Write Wild, Write Free. Our motto was my motor. Driving me everywhere and nowhere. I hit highs and I hit lows. Stretches and bumps. Butterflies and snakes. Race cars and barrows. And everything in between.
But races have a finish line. I wish it didn't. But that's selfish, for we'll all die of exhaustion.
I see the white lines. But instead of speeding on to completion, I slow my pace, stare in the rear-view mirror, and pout a kiss.
Objects in (the) mirror are closer than they appear
My legs are off the pads. No brakes. No gas. Just motion.
The line's closer, and it's not a mirage.
- Luscious
YOU ARE READING
Bedroom Whispers
Non-FictionThe bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were co...
