Hurricane
I don’t believe in true love
Or in soulmates
But I know what happened to me
And I believe in addiction.
You did not screech or beseech
With kissable lips
And raised eyebrow
With clever fingers set your snare.
I was yours.
You hooked me
With the efficiency of a hurricane,
I became forever yours.
– Vagabond Prophet
How crafty, I seem. But I do not recall it quite that way.
Around the corner you might find him, they said to me.
Turn the right or left and there he will be
Cautiously I inched around each turn that came about
For fear that a pair of eyes and lips would wipe me clear out
There was no corner when I saw you
Just the bones of trees reaching to sky
The brown and gold of burnt grass lost to summer
With clouds ashen blue bearing no lie
Honey gold, ice blue you smiled
They flocked to you, bees to flower
Children to sugar, and all the while…
Roots became of my feet,
Whispers buzzed in my ears,
The triple flap of a hummingbird’s wing where my heart used to be
All that time wasted, peeking around corners
But it was the trees that hid you, the clouds that gave you asylum
Attacked without warning, I was
An ambush
Run, said my mind, rational where the rest of me set to fire
Run, for there he is.
There he is there is he is.
Mister Right.
I am glad I tore the roots of my feet from the earth,
Spun on my heel and set to fleeing
For while you were Mister Right
I was yet Miss Not-Ready.
Ink Child Writing 