leaving the station
A kiss on top your head, you lean in to snuggle closer; I watch with bristled feathers and a puffed-up chest from afar. I admit that the sight of you brings about a muse fueled by flame and fire, leaving me a cinephile at heart and a bibliophile in my soul.
The scent of pine and fresh paint, shades of blue and gray and green to match the frosted trees outside your window; what do you think of the new colors?
Letter after letter you send and I decline, ripping off the stamp and tossing it into the garbage bin next to the discarded eggshells and a crumpled chips bag.
I don't need to know where you've been.
The train blares and I hurry, suitcases in hand and boots on my feet. I close my umbrella and shake off the water droplets, stepping up and taking refuge from the rain.
I know exactly where I'm going although I don't necessarily have a location in mind, running from these problems in hopes of finding some new, exciting ones. I wonder what this world has in store for the broken and patched up, the phoenix crawling out of the ashes as compared to rising.
The train starts to move and I look away from the glass, no longer needing to say goodbye-
I've made my peace with us.
YOU ARE READING
your heart breaks forevermore
PoetryA combination of both poetry and story-telling, I hope you all enjoy this collection as much as I enjoyed writing it. Poetry has always been an escape for me, whether it be based on something real or entirely fictional. I pray you all can escape int...
