There were maps of you that I saw in your eyes.
There were ways to your heart, to your skin,
to your bones, and to your veins.
To your mind, to your bliss,
to your smile, and to your keys.
Streets were in a straight line.
No circles, nor a cross.
All the arrows point the same
--- really easy to navigate.
Maps were supposed to lead the way.
But with you, I get lost in every possible way
--- all the time.
YOU ARE READING
Diagnosed
PoetryThird and last installment of the Pills trilogy. She keeps on looking for her Adonis, but she found her Hephaestus.
