I had wanted to be your Russian Doll, rushing in back up against the wall. Hair in disarray. Looking up at you while our mouths played. Your shoulders they never seemed so wide, so beautiful. Is his eyes. Wish I had met you in 2016's early Fall. Now I'm dropping like an NYE ball. I'm stuck watching & waiting anticipating, always hesitating my gallop has slowed to a crawl ...you've never stood so tall. Go call your partner, I'd better call Saul. Leave you to your milieu. Stop wondering of you. Used to dislike him 'cause he called me 'Beth' then I ached to partake in a shared breath. But my spot came out for a lady with a family all Brady. When there's nothing Mickey about you. Telling myself it's an awkward inconvenience a ferried flight of emotion lucid dreaming at its best A mind trip vacation A dist...
Where conspiracy theories meet feminist theories. (And sometimes there's poems).