I Run From The L Word

Head wrapped in thorns and flowers

'cause selfishly, I’m all I want.

I swear to the heavens and the hells

that my heart is blind to sentiments.

I run from the vulnerability and commitment

that most crave.

Death of my own kind

I do not tear,

but collapse into pot holes

stuffed to the brim with sigh and shrug.

At birth

most are dealt the Queen of hearts

and attach

themselves to the symbolistic face value.

To them, love is a card.

I flip it over and shuffle

to regain composure.

The only time I pick up a deck

is at parties, in which I remain nameless,

where my mind runs on empty.

Easy escape.

One touch

and I'm off to the races

with a torch in my hand

and thorns in my hair.