My Favorite Place
Many other’s favorite places lie,
They make it seem as if things will never go wrong.
Like when it’s warm outside,
With light white clouds covering barely a fourth of the sky.
Or when a tree’s branch sways,
Making a soft swishing sound in the afternoon air.
When the sun is shining bright,
but not too bright to harm your eyes.
Or when you can almost taste the freshly mowed grass.
But my favorite place is painfully truthful,
It doesn’t lie to me about world and it’s problems,
Instead it warns me,
“Nothing ever stays the same.”
My favorite place is in the dark corner of my room,
With tear stains on my cheeks.
When it’s 2 o’clock at night and it’s storming,
And a numb feeling in my chest.
My favorite place is blunt and cruel,
almost taunting me with its silence.
My favorite place is not a destination,
Not a place or time.
My favorite place is in the darkness of my broken heart.