my heart is a warm cabin, hidden away among the mountains. a home that you run away to when you need a breather, a break- a world away from the one you know. a constant fire roars inside, keeping this little cottage a pleasurable place away from the bitter cold of loneliness and fear. you step inside, and my fire warms your cold skin, breathes its heat into your beaten soul.
my heart is a lone gas station on the ride of a strip of highway. after a long ride, you are low on gasoline, low on hope. you need a refill of reason, a boost of passion. like oil into an empty tank, i fill you with what you need to drift back onto the highway. oh! but how silly of me to think i was the destination!
darling, the wood that this cottage is built from has grown rotten from the moisture seeping from its walls every time you you shut off the lights and lock the doors. this gas station has run dry of fuel, not nearly enough income coming into it to support the cost of it any longer. the windows of these once welcoming building are broken. cold air whisps through them freely. my heart is no longer a place for you to sleep away your loneliness, no longer a place to revitalize your worn soul. they are deserted. no longer fit for use.
YOU ARE READING
a collection
Poetrythis is just a place to save my writing, actually. i don't particularly care if it's ever read.
