seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Russia
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
Wings
Clip my wings and cast me out.
Watch me struggle to survive the Fall.
Shattered bones and a broken soul.
You could not heal the latter.
Screams for help fall on deaf ears.
My Grace could not be found.
Still I hold my blade and uphold my oath.
I will not back down.
I Am
What you need to know about me is I am the last of a generation. My brothers being born in ‘91,’92, ‘97, and myself in ‘99. I grew up in the era before the smartphone. I grew up with walkmans and burned CDs. We had to get off the computer if we wanted to make a phone call. When the street light came on that meant it was time to go home before Mom started hollering. My oldest brother was always in charge. I’m part of the last generation that had to learn how to write in cursive. If I acted out in public, oh boy, did I know the consequences. I was taught to say yes sir/ma’am and no sir/ma’am without prompting. A pinky promise was the highest form of secrecy. To break a pinky promise is to end a friendship. You could have many friends but only one best friend.
Between Two Nowheres
900 miles between two nowheres
One to the North
One to the South
Two different lives
Two different crossroads
One promise to keep
900 miles between two nowheres
One trying to make it by
One trying to start over
Two different situations
Two different solutions
One promise to keep
900 miles between two nowheres
Two loving families
Two close friends
One thing brought them together
Nothing keeps them apart
One promise to keep
Between Two Nowheres
*I'm going to cross post this to my creative writing blog @creativewritingmoose67. Just wanted to share on both blogs.*
900 miles between two nowheres
One to the North
One to the South
Two different lives
Two different crossroads
One promise to keep
900 miles between two nowheres
One trying to make it by
One trying to start over
Two different situations
Two different solutions
One promise to keep
900 miles between two nowheres
Two loving families
Two close friends
One thing brought them together
Nothing keeps them apart
One promise to keep
Ghost Words
Your words were faint
They barely passed your lips
They hung stagnant in the air
They hung heavy on my heart
Your words were final
They haunt me when I sleep
They stay around when I wake
Your words were deafening
They echo in my ears for hours
They drown in my heart for days
Your words were a promise
A promise of no more
A promise of never again
A promise of goodbye
Your words were really mine
Home
Jet black paint with shiny chrome accents.
Squeaking door hinges that needed oil.
An engine under the hood that could purr.
This was home.
A trunk with a hidden compartment.
Worn leather bench seats.
Cassettes way past their prime.
This was home.
Open roads and night skies.
Fast food and small diners.
Hotels and motels in between.
This was home.
It didn’t have four walls, but 4 doors.
It didn’t have beds, but familiarity.
It didn’t have stability, but freedom.
No it wasn’t a house, but
It was home.
