Writing to Escape

by codebllack

I do not write to amaze you or renowned publishers

Or the boy with blues eyes who blows butterflies in my stomach

If I did write for you, then I’d be writing about:

How broken we are; name the shattered pieces

Curse men and call silly emotions love

If I did write for the publisher in street 13

The one who loves tobacco with tea

Then I’d be probably writing about:

Spaceships, archangels, drugs and magic

Fictions and adventures

And if I really did write for the pretty blue-eyed boy who

Tripped over my expensive heart

Then I’d certainly be writing about:

How our bodies intertwined; how we spoke in moans and kisses

And the heavenly warmth that laid between our bodies

Instead I write about:

The breeze tickling the leaves

And sunlight caressing the sprawling city

I write about how God speaks to me

Through moonbeams and silver clouds

I write about unforgettable hola and haunting adios

Also about phenomenal women, sometimes

Whose laughter impersonates crystal wind-chime

I write to calm the fire in my veins

I write and scratch away my pains

I stitch my wounds while stitching words into poems