Destiny is a Dusty Glass

Is she a lover, a friend, or just another shadow cast on the bar wall in the night.

I admire her beauty,
the southern bell accent,
and the promise under that skirt.

I thrive for quiet spaces,
Solitude, and still manage to transcribe my thoughts deep in the crowd.

I was never built for more than this. Realization of my truths take time and destiny gathers dust in my pen.

I belong to the days I have wasted and the future worries melting onto this page.

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2 thoughts on “Destiny is a Dusty Glass

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