#635
Portugal, the right temperature,
right away. Winding streets,
winding rivers, great graffiti,
ocean views, cheap meals,
the hype is real.
#636
Why am i so fixated on
taking another journey?
Am i being pushed by intuition,
or some kind of minor dependance?
How will this change me, and why
would i care? Do i not have direction?
My own compass to clock? Am i
so unaware i’m in love? Does it
really matter if i feel connected, must
i travel so far to get where i want to go?
#637
Stayed up too late again
searching deep dark holes
hunting fleeing rabbits
multiplying as they scatter,
i dive deeper in the darkness
further forever, does it ever matter,
beyond an ending, past exhaustion,
no hope in finding finality.
#638
Funny how i always think
i’m much further along than i really am.
down each path, through each book,
in each film, on each page, done each day,
climbed each hill. Always dreaming ahead,
when i should be looking back,
and thrilled to be right here, right now.
#639
He told me she writes him poems,
and they’re true. He smiles as he
speaks, repeats how he’d always known.
Their time as kids, found decades later,
the compliments of their kiss, spoken
softer, theres a difference in his eyes,
as the word are set free, he smiles wider
than most, he shakes his head, happy
that he finally walks beside her.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write