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Travis Bowden Poems
In 4/4 Time
look: those strangers, those lovers, they met without a past. they're making a story. they're writing for the dreamers,
When The Poets Stop Writing About Love
i found a note on my walk to the campus, that read from one friend to another, 'my boyfriend writes me the prettiest poems.' and i think to myself, 'why waste such precious time on love? '
Maybe Love Will Be Like Driving
'how fucking trite, cliche, (add in anything you'd like here) , '
Odessa, Texas: Where Death Vacations
i spent a week in Odessa. a Motel One room visited by a depressed cocaine addict. she told stories of her kids, while we lay undressed searching for cigarettes on the floor.
The Phone Works Both Ways
waking up, whispering 'good morning' to a red sheet over the pillow next to me at two-forty five in the morning. i could have sworn i wasn't alone, but at the same time i thought it was bright
Roma Colosseo Shot Glass (In 1st Person)
I didn’t live in Rome to watch the tourists pass by. I stood there, a model for the world to adore. My slender body, oh, with such curves. My golden lips, my make-up turning heads.
mother nature has a funny way of telling us, or so it seems. it could be in the way that she covers the moon in forest fire smoke,
Distilled Between 4: 57 A.M. And 5: 15 A...
it's sometime in the morning, between blue and black - the sun isn't up, but the sky almost lies and says so. Happy Days
Seneca, My Existential Detective
you're sleeping with ghosts and kissing your pillow. lifing one finger to signal, dear, Seneca for just one more round.
Comments about Travis Bowden
In 4/4 Time
those strangers, those lovers, they met without a past.
they're making a story.
they're writing for the dreamers,
and leaving it behind for the readers