my lemon lift

She is my kindred spirit, my cup of tea on a grey day; lemon lift. The stable to my broken when my mind’s sent adrift.

And you’ll never know me completely until you know her as well.

She is my cry for help a quarter past midnight, no questions asked, the Heaven in my own personal Hell.

She is the peephole in the door that is closed off to my thoughts, the pillow I cry on when life wrecks me distraught.

She’s the miles from here to home; moon and stars burn roads’ distance unknown. Long drives here, longer drives back; streets on streets of platinum black.

Before I had her, I was only a bit

My best friend is my other half, my glass slipper that fits.

For Dev.