i dream of leaving this city behind

I dream of leaving this city behind.
Packing up, driving off with no map and no goodbye.
No letter. No forwarding address.
Just the hush of a vanished name.

I’ll find a haunted little beach town to disappear into.
A sleepy cottage veiled by sea rocks and wild ivy.
Inside, an oasis — tangled with plants and memories.
Vases of flowers, both dried and blooming.
Paint-stained jars. Lace curtains fluttering in salty wind.
Mahogany floors worn soft. Vintage furniture kissed by time.
Bookcases spilling over — stories, trinkets, secrets.

My closet will be filled with flowing dresses.
Soft things to hide the shape of me.
No hard lines, no sharp silhouettes.
I’ll float through town, a shadow in the mist.
Rarely seen, save for the quiet ritual:
fresh bread. a bottle of wine. a nod to the cashier.

At night, I’ll drink and write.
Poetry like a leak in the ceiling — slow and constant.
Music will fill the quiet, louder than the thoughts.
It will rise to drown the shame.
Try to hold back the tide of guilt that wants to break me open.

There we’ll be — me and Tobi.
Curled on the couch in candlelight.
Blankets like a cocoon.
Tobi purring softly, the only heartbeat I need.

I’ll be alone.
But I will be free.