No place like home

She sleeps in my bed
missing her own
but glad for the warmth

of my Egyptian cotton sheets
and the neutral
Target comforter set I shared

with the ex-boyfriend who left
me to play
house with a neighbor lady.

She thanks me for my
generosity, not knowing
I would burn that bed

and flee this tortured place,
run from this
incestuous den of communal pain

and the home built together, 
where any memories
of warmth have long died.

---

November PAD Day 27 - local

Runaway

A little girl came across our lawn
and knocked on our door. A pawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn. 
Flew. 

Just a baby, innocence foregone,
she lay on my couch and yawned,
"No more." She was gone
past the dawn
to

late the next morning. She yelled, "Come on!"
when she woke. A little fawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.
New.

--

Creative Bloomings - Triquint