Storyteller

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Been stuck on a road

Too high to mine for gold

Down in the dirt

Where I face my shadows, my hurt

Learning to garden

As my chrysalis hardens

Burying bodies of chapters

That lost their laughter

Compositions of compost matter

Fertility for the freshly sown to grow

 

Watered with drooling pleasures

Unsevered sense of self

I keep my healing in pockets 

With my flowers and rocks

Woven into song lyrics, quiet moments

Neck kisses in between breaths

Anything to help

Curb the craving for lust and love bombs

Delicate fingertips

Tracing the lines of my palms


Playing it cool 

But don’t leave me in the cold

Don’t leave me at all

If I should be so bold 

Engineered thoughts

To stray from what I’ve always known 


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