Places I've Never Been

Soaking in my tub,
Rose petals stick to my skin.
Stuck in my head again,
Acting like it's a place I've never been.

Candle flickers, casting shadows
I pretend , they're dancing
To the songs I write, but only dare to sing in solitude.

Find my lyrics on my voice memos,
Scattered throughout old poetry books,
Etched into my planner,
Places where nobody, but me, ever looks.

And I like to try the small talk,
Even though, you're not one for it.
Unless it's five a.m. in LA,
And there's liquor on my lips.

So here I am just writing poems,
Of places I've never been...
Or have I been those places,
By simply touching your fragile skin?

Maybe I've been to Paris,
And danced away the nights,
At underground rock parties,
Guided only, by city lights.

And maybe I've been to Denmark,
And wore fur while drinking gin...
Or hopped a bus in London,
Partook in lavish sins.

Just maybe I've been these places, I think I've never been.