Destination
Walking on orange clouds until I can't feel without instructions.
Tie the tourniquet as tight as you can as I take in the spring air from my window.
To grieve my past self would require energy that is assigned elsewhere.
Loneliness is my only inheritance. For everything else I use hard cash.
As my spoon loses its shine to the flame I am closer to my destination.
I shall dance with my maker as a reward for services rendered.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
