strands descend like light through
curtained windows
to the bathroom for a long walk to work
forget the sunset
dream in daylight
and swaying smile to bedsheets
hide between layers under pillows
drift in and out of smoky universes
but always return home
to the golden waves
cerulean outposts
to guide the lost to safety
short and sweet. trying to get back in the rhythm of writing, the habit of twisting my perception just so so that it's readable, consumable.
About Me
- alia
- "too much stuff, too many places, too much information, too many people, too much of things for there to be too much of, there is too much to know and i don't know where to begin but i want to try."
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1 comment:
i love how this poem dances~
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