whether I should

leave the safety.


Run away into

the wild,

the unknown,

known more so

then what I

thought I knew

what I thought I wanted.


Things change,

leaves fall

bodies rot.

But next year

they’ll be new

fresh leaves

replacing the

carcasses on the

well trodden



A new born

crying for something

not yet known

or reached.


Starting something


Trying all its life,

but ending up

choosing security

like the dark

tight womb.


Another for the “the not in love poems” or called “relationship with love”. Copyright to me of course 🙂


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