The reality of it is,
I'm a getaway trying to get away,
with an ocean view,
eyeing the horizon with distaste.
I'm the life vest without any sense of
preservation.
you helped me off the boat
so now help yourself,
while I float.
I'm like a radioactive bandage
covering a wound that doesn't bleed.
Help me peel off
my emotional damage.
I'm a telephone
that can't speak.
But your ears will melt off
within the week.
Mistletoe
and the turkey we cooked for dinner.
Either way
you put something against your lips
and decide to call me
The sinner.
I'm
an anomalie,
wannabe.
Set me free,
run with me.
On the edge of the earth,
I'm a dove,
wings outstretched,
waiting for your shove.
Do you want to fly
or keep looking at me,
putting fingers through the birdcage
you made
as if to make real what no one else
sees of me?
YOU ARE READING
As The Sun Falls
PoetrySo do I. A series of poems that transcend as far as the universe and all it's stars to the bottom of the ocean where every breath is held preciously.
