She is the sugar in my veins,
and the salt in my wounds.
She is always the bullseye
to all of my bad ideas.
She is addicted to espresso from Mexico,
Frank Sinatra classics, and antique radios.
She makes my heart sizzle, like a hot skillet
doused in bacon grease drizzle.
I chased her tangerine curls through apple cider corn mazes,
watermelon swamplands, and blueberry rainforests.
Only to find her easting strawberries fermented in
maple syrup mead in Vermont with Maine tourists.
She is like the last slice of pizza,
the first shot of tequila, and a
cocaine-rimmed margarita.
She is the Polaroid I stashed inside
of an old wine bottle, and gave to the sea ...
the same damn bottle the moon
continues to return to me.
About the Creator
Kale Ross
Author | Poet | Dog Dad | Nerd
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
What a creatively, beautiful poem!
Oooo, this was so amazing! Loved your poem!
Nice 🤍💙🖤