This was written for Writing 201: Poetry
Running beside overgrown bushes
That moan under the weight
Of immense unknown blossoms.
It leads me to my own home,
Where he waits alone
Under the stone archway.
His hipbone protrudes;
I can see it through his shirt,
Which I’m sure he’s sprayed
With his sweet cologne.
I can almost hear his deep groan,
Muttered into my ear as I attone
For having flown away from our safe zone.