Search
  • Grace Cockerill

Not a real place.

When I hide under the sheets at night

I imagine us running away together, to not a real place.

I imagine big. much bigger than I.

The place looks hazy and I lose all my edges.

I fit right in and i can run for miles.

The trees are so lush and the air feels so warm.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

I can hear the cicadas in the breeze.

The stream is so gentle on our toes, but

your feet begin to look cold and your

belly begins to rumble.


25 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All