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TrinityPacker

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

4 poems·Since February 2015
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white lines

February 21, 2015

straight lines brings back a flash back in time

from sitting in the kitchen mama making sweet apple pies.

Her lover made her heart race more ways than any other.

Seeing the presence of all color transformed her into a whole different mother.

hold me while we watch the moon light vibrate on the river,

while you open your jar for the late summer flies.

I can feel your fast heart beats from this morning.

It's so loud, it sounds like the Devils coming.

He brushes his teeth with red wine.

I watch my shows while I make my own lines.

Glances at the mirror, I have my mother's eyes,

much bigger than normal size.

I sniff whille a tear takes a stroll.

While the aggressive man grabs a degradding hold.

I dont care i hope he never lets me go.

This what I was told,

"Have a good man and you'll never fold. 

now hush up and eat your pie before it gets cold."

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