These small little things,
These drifting bottles,
Hidden under sand, under castles, under twisting boughs.
The key to you.
Also the lock.
The sofa in your attic room
is a long slab of dough;
I sink into it every time
I melt into the fibers
and hide there
until the storm
has passed over our heads –
the rage of alcohol
infects the whole street,
though the radiation-green trail
is a red-handed print from my house.
You tell me I can’t stay here
They’ll find me anyway,
better to turn myself in.
Part of me thinks you’re right.
Maybe my years of hiding
I’m supposed to be an adult soon, anyway.
Do adults really run
from their family?
You say you don’t know;
you’ve never had one.
I look at you, confused.
An empty room
Naturalist and multi-award winning author
One Author's Blurbitty Blurb Blurb Blurb
Every week - 1 Theme & 3 Books to share with your littles
My continuing mission to explore ... magic
YA author, worlds builder and insatiable reader
FictionPress Authors Breaking Into the Publishing Industry, One Book At A Time
A Collaborative Mental Health Blog
lost in the pages of books
Author, Inspirational Blogger, Book Reviewer & Promoter (James J. Cudney)
Diary of a book addict.
Reviewing Indie Authors One Book at a Time
a literary lifestyle
Exploring open roads without breaking the bank
by Lize Bard
where YA books are reviewed