The Motel
When I met you, you lived in a motel
With blankets that blocked the light from coming in through the window
A black time zone interrupted only by the red glow of that one lamp on the floor;
A red that lights your face just enough
And traces the edge of your back
When you opened the door in the late afternoons
I was greeted by blackness but it felt like the sun
And we would lose hours, and days
Like they do in space
Where it all just feels like a few minutes
But today,
gravity pulls a little bit harder
And I remember laying in that motel bed,
Watching you, all in red
And thinking you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen
And that it felt like freedom
Posted Jan 27, 2026, 2:55 AM UTC
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