I always wanted to be something lovely
Someone poets would write about
With their flowing language and flowering imagery:
A muse
The girl having a love affair with the moon
Lost with no interest in being found
A wanderer
I wanted to be known as the woman
With a soul like the ocean
I never wanted to be conventional
I hate routine
Disgusting monotony
I enjoy running away from what I know
My distaste for familiarity
Forces me to carry my anchor with me
Without ever letting go
I’m hopelessly ordinary
With an ambition to be extraordinary
And being a mystery
Is the only way I know how
So if I love you
You must be my poet
Because with you
I dropped my anchor



About savannahlyn

I write to articulate what my tongue cannot
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