First Roadtrip

It isn’t the wind in your hair,
Or the excitement of adventure,
Or the tingle of rebellion,
Or even the first thrills of adulthood
That puts you in that sweet high.
It is the blank feeling
Of a one-eighty night
Spotted with stars and embellished with the moon,
And the prospect of content friendship,
Of living under the sky,
Of spending a soul-defining moment
With the people who know you too well.
For one moment, like they say,
We will be boundless.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

Grey

Through the scratched glass window
Of the rickety and ferrous train,
Through the waterdrops
Racing to meet each other,
Through a watery filter,
I see the world fly by me,
Painted in every colour,
Tinted in grey.
The wheels of the train
Churn out a rhythm
That forms a background
For the falling drops.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

Reserved

It’s just,
I am not what they call
A “people’s person”.
I don’t call,
I don’t make an effort
To keep in contact,
I try to avoid small talk
Which does nothing for me.
I am introverted.
I am hypocritic.
I am insecure.
I need others to reach for me,
Just to know that they want me.
I am all these vices.
But know this.
If you matter to me,
You will be in my heart.
And nothing can wear that corner out,
Not time, distance, or the world.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

Living

The ghost of your anklets,
Echo in the front yard
Of my house, broken by time.
The song that you hummed,
A broken tune,
Wordless, still plays,
Like some distant flute,
In my mind.
Thoughts about you are
A childhood kaleidoscope,
Changing colours at each corner.
Lonely nights
Void of the warmth
Of your sunshine
That used to light up my darkness.
This is my life now.
Without you.
I am black among white,
And I am still living.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

Raining

When I knew that I was in too deep,
That there was no reversal
From that point,
It was raining.
I was drenched,
In the rain,
In the realization.
My breath caught,
And my heart met yours
Almost invisible,
Hidden in the blurred downpour.
Kohl lined eyes blinked,
Overflowing,
Water mingling with tears.
Rain swirled
Around me and you,
Enveloping,
Cherishing.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

Let Go

Some people move fleetingly.
They move from place to place
As life takes them
Without touching
Or growing roots
Any one place,
So that when pulled away by life,
They will be less damaged,
Less hurt.
Others attach themselves
To any hold they can gather
And when the time comes to let go
They find that the hold
Has grown in with their limbs
And extracting themselves
Becomes a disastrous affair.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

Tragic

Coming here was a tragic event:
Leaving home behind,
I was going to live
A stranger among strangers
For three years of my life.
Now as I walk away,
I hide my tears
From the strangers
Who have become my family.
Leaving, I realise,
Is as much a tragic event
As coming here.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)