I don’t miss the overflowing
wastebasket brimming with
bloody bandaids from finger wounds
caused by broken guitar strings.
You’ve brought the music, so
I’ll stick with the words &
untying our shoe strings.
Two soldiers engaging
in a heated ceasefire.
Two barefoot lovers dancing
around a depleted bonfire.
Two trees in heat blazing
an uncontrollable wildfire.
You’ve completed my math.
You are my path...
...We snuck aboard
like proper pirates.
Struck a bargain with
a crow with a copper iris.
Tiptoed the planks to avoid
waking sleeping giants.
Ventured below deck
to escape the climate.
Smuggled rum from the brig
to the captain’s quarters.
Drank until the sunset
and sunrise were over...
About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd | Zen Practitioner
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
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