Poetry · Writing

Tree House

I use lines and metaphors to hide

something real-

it’s hidden in the words

deep between the pages

and everyone finds something different.

Love, death-life, or a stress free image to carry them off to sleep-

sleeping in the comfort of my tree house hiding

from what is real-

keeping in what made me who I was-

the lines and the metaphors convert

the troubles and the texture of daily wear

into something


I could tell you my day was shit

or that the Nile came past my knees and swept me away before being rescued by a somber of breath.

It’s safe in this tree house-

built with pages of forgotten poems and fiction ideas

characters that crawl in my dreams

turning them into nightmares.

I want to stay here-

they don’t deserve this life-

freedom is what my children need

I’ll swim the Nile for them-

break down these trees that supported my fears

and housed my heart.

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