The
inconstancy
of
others
is
not
your
failing.

Some people
are like
burning buildings;
you will run
into them
time
after
time,
against all
advice,
to salvage
what you
can,
and then
wonder why
you are
always left with
nothing but
ashes.

Perhaps
floating
down river
with flowers
in my hair
is better
than sitting
on the bank
and
watching them
die.

You ask
why
the wanderlust,
why
the love of leaving?
I say
maybe
I am just
trying to find
somewhere
your ghost
cannot
haunt me.

I hope
the miles
of paper
I filled
and
the oceans
of words
I wrote
tell you more
than my
hopelessly
tongue-tied
self
ever could.

I do not
ever
cross your mind.

You occupy
every nerve
in mine.

You didn't know
that I hold
galaxies
in my head
and
oceans
in my chest.
You didn't know
that I would've
died
a thousand times
just to see you smile
for a second.
You didn't know
I would've cut the throats
of tigers
just to keep you safe.
You didn't know
I kept the darkness
hidden
so you only saw the
light.
You didn't know
I would've loved you
as much as
my wasteland of a heart
would allow.
If you had,
you never
would've let me go.