i would have dreams
about being trapped in a closet
hiding from monsters.
and it wouldn't be a closet where you would decide
what to wear and what is flattering
or to gaze upon the things tossed aside
like fading pictures of distant memories.
it is the closet where you decide
which facade you will put on today,
to gaze at your true blue you tossed aside
with tear stained skins and eyes
gazing back at you,
as they peer at you with longing
for when you will decide
to try on something new.
YOU ARE READING
where are my lucky socks? a collection of poems
Poesiaa collection of miscellaneous poems i have thrown together over a series of months. no common themes, just spicy and metaphorical words thrown into a jumble.
