I long to travel:
Wanderlust tugs at my soul.
Maine screams my name,
The ocean calls for its siren far away.
Salem calls me,
Whispering tales of young girls lost to time.
Montreal commands me:
The lady of the Cathedral awaits me.
Virginia cries, longing for my return.
Her rivers swell with tears.
The Painted Desert shrivels under the sun's harsh gaze,
wishing its adventurer's return.
Posted in response to the challenge PAST CONTESTS: Spring '24: Writing Contest.
the winter makes me so happy
the snow hanging in the trees
the cold biting at you
i love it
oh Icarus, you poor thing.
fell in love with the sun, the sky-
paid the price, i suppose.
why do we always pay the price for love?
Orpheus, lonesome poet,
lost his love because he wanted to tell her they'd made it.
In my attic I keep my heart.
I hold it there, safe amidst pillows, blankets and childhood stuffed animals.
When I make things, I break off a piece of my heart,
and sew it into pillows,
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.