3-Word Prompt: Boomers, On, Bikes

We carry each other's secrets Like illegal weapons Hidden in our jacket pockets Close to our hearts And into the backs of belt loops Close to our most private of parts. Our cold, metal protections are

Like cold butter, I was always meant To be softened – Whether by time Or warmth Or being left out too long. I was always meant To be part of something better Something bigger – Not a standalone and sa

When you became a desert, I was your monsoon. When you were dry farmland, I was the downpour Your crops thirsted for. When your grass got a little greener, I became a sprinkler, My tsch, tsch, tsch so