Insecurity

Insecurity. Bled me dry.
The seed. Root.
Ghosts in my soul.

Invasion.
Laughter at speakeasies.
Bubbles in the champagne.

Surfaced, too quickly.
Whether on my right,
Or, left of you.

You let the  
Bubbles rise to your
Unthoughtful Head.

None the less.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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