evening

poetry, evening, lessons

It’s cold here at night.

I wear long sleeves, but still have goosebumps.

Still, I’d rather be outdoors.

Taught as a child that sleeping on the porch is true peace and perfect solitude.

Where the night air cleanses the harsh heat of the day.

I am nocturnal by nature

And by nurture.

Lessons learned in childhood about myself

That come crashing down in my 20s.

Only to learn again, this time alone, how to cope.

The person who molded me only recently making way into my life again.

I only feel like I’ve transcended his teachings.

F*****g irony.

Always my torturous mentor.