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Below is the poem entitled Fugitives which was written by poet Roman Atkin. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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We can always escape 
with your hand in mine, 
it's in the pills that you offer me 
but I shy away.
It's in the drink that you poor in me
and I cannot refuse.

Saturday night, we're running away, 
through the turnstiles relentlessly, 
flowing downstream, 
it's the only way. 
With your hand in mine 
I feel your pulsation echoing through me 
again and again, 
again and again.

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