Run,
Run from the romance
Get up and Run from his hands
Run away from the love in his bed
Get away by running to places
As fast as you can Run do so for you
From that man run away and stay a stray
Swooping past the kisses
Wandering in your mind
Centering the You from a plus one
Get ready, set and fly
Running so fast might as well be soaring
From Cupid it's better to hide
Better yet run if you can’t hide
Peek if you can’t see
Stop trusting the flickering of the light
Cover your mind from Romantic dictions
Where do I go from here?
Is Romance all?
Have I ran away from it all?
The sheer veil lets me see through
And yet after romance…
...is there anything worth left to see?
Is reality as pretty?
I think it’s as pretty as can be.
That’s where I’m going.
That’s where I’m aiming.
I stole the bow from Cupid,
Now I shoot at the world.
About the Creator
keishly hernandez
-This 22 year old has a Bachelors degree in English Literature.
- Puerto Rican with greens eyes, pale and colored hair.
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Coffee Shop Boy
I'm not just a customer. He serves and he smiles with an "enjoy" on his lips for everyone. The seats at the bar are full, patience running low in one half, and giggles mixed with stares on the other half. We met outside but it was dull. A casual hey and a terrible hello. Something was shared and then thought out. Not concluded but for some reason I just wanted to shout. What are those words you said? When I asked you that question?"I'm just the boy that makes you coffee." So every day I thought about opening those doors again. Seeing the giggling girls on the bar and the desperate late nighter's with red eyes. Getting that "enjoy" from your lips and having my name said in a different way outside. You served me more than coffee and gave more than joy. But at last it's true, and now I see, you're just the boy that makes me coffee.
By keishly hernandez7 years ago in Poets
TICK TOCK
11.59. Even though the glass had shattered, Lorna could still see that her watch ticked over. One minute until midnight. Her watch was the only thing she had that she could carry. The only thing to remember her parents by. A birthday present from last year, the year she turned seventeen.
By Elizabeth Butler2 days ago in Fiction
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