Gardens

Sometimes I am buried

Sometimes you are fresh air

And always, I love you

 
Then, we were cars

chasing grief

like miles in mirrors

We felt

the bugs hit our wrists

and the sun scorch our shoulders

 
Now, we are wings

and someday, we’ll be gardens

But always, I love you

 

9-28-18

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

Create your website at WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: