abroad
Learn more about other poetry terms
Mitt hus
Det huset, biblioteket på Skogås,
Och dessa vägar med musikaliska namn,
Runt andas jag av fur och gran.
Här, på fuktigt lövverket umgås
Och leker, springer, babblar barn.
To My Mother
Momma he beats me.
What do you want for dinner?
Leftovers sound fine.
To My Lover Abroad
Tell me you love me.
Remember the ferry ride?
It started as all do, in January
But I was not in the same place
The year started abroad, where I learned to be on my own
With a new language, new friends, new everything
It was difficult, but just enough
When I was younger, I used to think guys
Needed to make me smile
I thought boys completed empty parts
Parts that first became bruised
This city continues to be a whirlwind of vibrancy.
My thoughts are drenched with its very exsistence.
So, rightfully, my deptarture shall be grand.
May I stretch my legs and dance along the chiseled rooftops.
Lush green patches stroll by as we continue down the deserted road in the monster.
The colors stand out like a pink feather against a wall of white.
I am that pink feather.
