I plan to lament, to pity-party, to languish-unapologetic-like, the daylong, in regret and angst.
When dawn of some new era calls, I’ll hear it’s hearken, I’ll know it’s finally time I arise from the rain and fog.
‘Til that day, you’re cursed, Mountain, you’re soul-sold, Hollow, you’re a kind woman’s Relic and Shame.
She is not He
She is Where It’s At, Has Always Been, and Forever More Will Be
Where If Goes To Become
She is Where He Needs To Be Attending To
She Really Is
She Is Peaches and Mittens
There’s no more Not Knowing Such Love
She Is Leading Me
But found only my own enlightenment
It can only be the powers that be
Sandy-haired, please find yourself
I am hope incarnate
you made your way home
In his Rocky Mountain drawl
Original Thought Credit: “So What” A song by Pink
Taking aim, then falling away
On being a different woman
So pretty you wish
I summoned you so hard
I am canvas-covered
I snowball you
A resounding “Atta Girl!”
In that small venue
A warm rain afire
Once a mountain there was