The runaway poetry

I want to runaway
from the tormenting unoriginality,
everyday after the night breaks
and before the day takes toll.
The only place I feel safe to run to,
is our world of gaiety laughter—
when our clothes smell of booze
and our skin chips in the winter nights;
when you cook: our mouths full of wine;
when we kiss
with the romance warming our toes;
when we laugh between the pain
because the bed is too small and our bodies tensed.
I want to feel and feel and feel
till I runaway next time—
to meet you in this parallel world,
to rest my heart from racing and yet feel alive.

~Bhawika Jethwani