Don't make it clear.
When the sun rises, there are no words between us,
he does not light the sky because he has to,
or grow our food for anything in return.
Let the flowers speak.
Let the chocolates be the road map.
No destination,
only rivers that wash us
and mountains that try and stop us.
And sometimes there will be a village.
When you pass around the pipe,
let the smoke fill your heart for yourself.
When you eat together, let the flavors
dance on your tongue.
These are all moments.
There are no words. No exposition.
One memory after another.
This is what I mean.
YOU ARE READING
Bent Roses
PoetryBent Roses is a poetry collection about familial devotion, love, and misery. It is about those nights when everyone gets home late and the first thing they say to each other is good morning. It is about believing in another person when you shouldn't...
