Short-lived, serendipitous and sly, I suppose.
It’s Sunday, I’m sleep-deprived and solemn, to say…. the slightest?
Scorned. Scored? Still insecure.
So I escaped.
I’m secluded, substantially.
Sarcastically scared, scratched and screwed.
Sense and sensitivity.
Sensibilities are shadows.
I am a shadow.
Spring stands on my shoulders.
I stand on sticks of sacrilegious stares.
Searching for sounds of smiles.
So we shared libations, my soul- sister and I.
I escaped for seconds totaling 14,400.
It’s shameful, I’m sure–