I want
a place of my own.
Keys in a dish
on a wooden table
bamboo racks
in the bathroom.
Mismatched chairs
in the bright yellow kitchen
handmade blankets
thrown across the couch.
I want
a place where I feel safe
where I can sing
and dance
and trip and not have someone laugh at me.
I want
and it aches
I want
and it hurts
I want
but I have to wait.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry from my Soul
PoetryPoems (mostly free verse) that I write when I feel that I should. Thanks to @BrandonMull_Lover (https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrandonMull_Lover) for the inspiration. I try to update on a semi-daily basis. The chapter header photos are a photo of the...
