escape

we drive, we make plans
you tell me i cannot sleep, not yet.
surface abrasions dissolving
when we are on the road.
but we stop.
she is poetry � running
meek, hat and distanced eyes
and my cynicism melts.
scuffed boots, a shorn head
staring at the ground, uneasy steps
wizened trees that could be me.
resolved to stare through windows
eyes misting up, despite resistance.
this hair, this face, this burden
are not mine.
this life, this love, this past
are not mine.
eliminate them one by one.

Reviews

[gravitylava]

yeah, this is really good. I love the emotion in this poem. great job! =D
nice.
-michelle