I am sitting on a city bench tired and alone in the pouring rain, and sleep is a late bus.

you make me feel good and ******
safe and terrified
comfortable and insecure

you make me feel so much more than i ever thought i'd feel before

Why does the wind howl so loudly
Why can't the moon talk back
To the lonely souls with tear stained faces
Why aren't the love letters in vintage stationary with ironic stamps and coffee stains returned
Why are novels abandoned and potted plants left unwatered?
Loneliness is universal, and the universe is a hell of a lonely place.

I feel so light-weight and gleaming
I feel like I know how to love
but I don't exactly know what love is
(I don't think I really care)

I'm glad you're you and I'm glad you're here
and I hope that you like me even when I am honest

The wind carries stories
listen
Chasing us through burning towns
run
The melting sunset
dusk
Swallows our thoughts
*immersed