Back to reality
where we’ve been waiting in different capacities
for a safe place to run to-
who knew that mine would be you?

Back roads sprinkled with hope;
heart-shaped raspberry smoke.
First sips of cupcake moscato,
not wishing for tomorrow.

So I’ll leave my hair on your jacket,
take a piece of me back to Kansas
and please remember me
like the night when I was set free.

And you’ll leave your mark on my skin.
I won’t even start to pretend
that I don’t smile at the memory
of the night when I was set free.

05.13.19