Boulevard

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

All day rain
slate gray sky
blank
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
cry
with sincerity…
but you are held
there
and I am trapped
here
in solitude
bound
to your solitude

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About bittersweetverse

Writer, poet, lover. http://madamesweetcheeks.blogspot.com/ View all posts by bittersweetverse

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