I think I finally understand
walls

Every word has a price tag,
every discussion a receipt

I'm not sure I'm ready to pay what I might have to pay to say what I say but it needs said.

I take a deep breath then I look at your face
are you my opponent or my friend
sometimes I can't tell.

One of us has to come out on top
one is paying and one is collecting and
today
I'm not ready to pay.

Fresh page, fresh year
I've scrolled down to a white screen
Fingers on keys
Ready to strike
Can't wait to see what happens next

can't sleep
my head full of him again
so I pull up the link
hear you quietly singing Molly into my ear
strumming your guitar
and it makes me smile
I think you might be the answer
at least you might
and that's enough for now

There are worse things
than a broken heart
but to a romantic
to a poet soul
it's fuel, it's fodder
we keep scratching the scab off
and fingerpainting in the pool of our own blood

the roots reaching down for water
blindly seeking it out in the dark
the sprouts reaching up for light
stretching toward it as it moves
I am reaching, stretching
in the dark and the light
and it feels so good

you were an education
that I'm still paying for