I move
You move
We move
Should we move to the desert
Or do these semi urbs sorta suburbs
Mini urban suite the writer the artist within me
Do I stay here or am I destined to isolate
Alone-eate alien-ate?
Rely on others to be a soul mate rather than invigorate profligate investigate make friends agitate aggregate
I've waited in pain for our friendship
I've waited in pain for these moments
Because they seem so fun
They define me
But you could take them or leave them
I'm not much to you
Not white
Not a boy
Not a white boy
So I'll wait over here
Till you make your move
Knowing it will never be more
It will always be this
YOU ARE READING
For When The Revolution Comes
PoetryMou Ghose returns with poetry of oppression, loss, and despair which often end with the silver lining of hope - because the revolution is coming. Copyright Moushumi Ghose, Los Angeles, 2016 - 2018
