Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2021
Riding the bus at night
is one of my few comforts in life.
Reminds me of happy days,
returning home from the park.
I remember a tall white building
standing, reaching for the dark sky
with red neon lights spelling "MOTEL"
I felt compelled to come inside.
I don't know.
Ꭷ Ꮇ Ꮛ Ꮐ Ꭺ
Written by
Ꭷ Ꮇ Ꮛ Ꮐ Ꭺ  23/M/NotFoundYet
(23/M/NotFoundYet)   
  561
     jdmaraccini, Vestige, Healer, vb, mikecccc and 1 other
Please log in to view and add comments on poems