Always trying to make sense of things.
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There I am gazing back at me as I stand before the mirror, observing. It's Me. It's all in the eyes a certain little gleam that lets me know I'm still pilot.
By Michael Wolfe7 years ago in Poets
"Can I fall through?" The plans are set in motion and soon it's all laughs and good vibes. We sip on the devil's juice and--
Feisty, I like that. You got a lil' bite to ya. I sense the darkness in your aura and I'm hooked. Something inside you is missing but you don't try to hide it.
We lay under the covers, her leg draped over mine. She's never the big spoon and she wanted to switch things up this time.
I belong to no one but myself. And that's a comforting thought. But it would be nice to belong. To someone. Someplace, even.
To plant a seed and watch it grow...isn't it a beautiful thing? An open mind is the perfect garden. Open up to me. Let me in.
Night arrives just in time, smooth as ever. The stars awaken, as do I. Restless ruminations that slumber during the day, spring to life as the sun wanes.
