My elbows on the back of a car
My unstable thoughts
Glamorizing a different life I never lived.
My empty hands clutching onto something
My tired eyes can’t make out.
On a closer look
It appears to be
The things I once believed.
My heaving lungs bring forth what I would give
For the chance to run with wolves.
My aching feet hold up the mountain of a man
Not strong enough to support
All the feelings caught up inside
My burning throat.
Empty of the locks that held back monsters.
Hidden beneath my bed
On the clearest of nights.
Hiding all that I have laid out for you.
My cascading hair that touches
The pillows that know more from my whispers
Than the ghosts that sit upon my shoulders.
My lashes holding back the visions
Of the silhouetted souls
Peering out the windows.
My lips that form the words that hold me
That keep my feet on the ground.
My heartbeats of morse code
Seeking the answers of when.
My fingers that miss the warmth of yours.
To all that I am and all that I keep within,
This is your escape.
—By Windsor Glen