My vessel is old
yet my souls yearns
for childhood comforts
tangled in the past

I am tired and a step
further is just painful
memories a more fonder
then the future ahead

i want to be a writer
i want to build you cathedrals out of
paragraphs and
catch your footfalls with my pages
you would laugh, not soft or delicate
and you would run
and i would keep turning pages
rewriting love
if you needed a change of pace

i want to be an artist
i want to crush berries against our skin
to make a color you've never seen before
you would grin and
it would stain your fingers
and you would stay
for a bit

i want to be a poet
silk falling from my tongue
in trellises and
you'd catch it and weave it around us
like a battered quilt
worn but well loved
and the words would keep us warm

i cant love you
in seasons anymore

We get it
You’re the elderly flower child
Living on your hippie dreams
Love is your prescription
For coming apart at the seams
Peace and groovy
And get a little ******
You think it’s that easy
Must be nice for you
To be a trust fund baby