Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I'm starting at the finish line, Head spins, blood flushes through Adrenaline bolting than sound. Am I late blooming? Dried Leaves seem young. Ecstasies dance off my guts. As I dine to the feel of butterflies While being swept off my feet My heart now leads my brain. The suspense of romance persists. Obvious mistakes embed to the core. I guess I'm losing control. Entanglement of emotions, The fear to hurt is now the compass. As the globe shrinks so small I guess I'm a late bloomer.
0
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 7:22 AM UTC
Late Bloomer
I'm starting at the finish line, Head spins, blood flushes through Adrenaline bolting than sound. Am I late blooming? Dried Leaves seem young. Ecstasies dance off my guts. As I dine to the feel of butterflies While being swept off my feet My heart now leads my brain. The suspense of romance persists. Obvious mistakes embed to the core. I guess I'm losing control. Entanglement of emotions, The fear to hurt is now the compass. As the globe shrinks so small I guess I'm a late bloomer.
charleydeinspirator
Written by
25/M/Monrovia, Liberia
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 7:22 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem