Truck full of gas
money to spare
how easy to point east
to you

All day rain
slate gray sky
of home, my coastal town
churned up green sea
tide turns out
slipping away
train rumbles my ribs
mocking my static with
its destination

I study the space next to me
will you to walk
out of the rain, if I wish
hard enough
with sincerity…
but you are held
and I am trapped
in solitude
to your solitude


About bittersweetverse

Writer, poet, lover. View all posts by bittersweetverse

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