If space is what you need
I’ll build you a rocketship
Right in my backyard
And we can fly to the moon
And dance under the stars

If time is what you need
I’ll buy you a grandfather clock
Eat meals at the table next to it
And kiss you every time it rings

If distance is what you need
I’ll buy us matching running shoes
And we can run until your heart feels
Like a firework on the Fourth of July
Because my heart always feels that way
When you’re with me

But if you need space from me

If you want less time with me

If you crave distance between us

Then I’ll ride my rocket to the moon
And wait until my grandfather clock
Says you’re ready to be with me
Then I’ll run back to you

Because if people wait a lifetime for heaven
Then I can wait a part of mine for you

I used nicotine patches to stop smoking
Because you hated the way I smelled
So why can’t I buy a patch of you
To ease me off your love

Because when I’m used to walking around
With your scent lingering on my clothes
Because I refused to take off the sweatshirt I wore
As you held me all night long

When I’m used to referring to your arms
As my indestructible fortress of protection
And viewing your lips
As an entrance to heaven that I can't wait to open

How do you expect me to be okay
When I suddenly lose all of that
My reason to get out of bed
The one person who promised to stay

All I know now is that after the pain of quitting you
I can say with confidence in my words
And a cigarette between my lips
"I guarantee you I’m never smoking again"

I wonder if you changed your garage code
Not that I’d ever open it again
But I just wonder if it would open for me

Along the in and out
Bank of the river
Eroded in twisted knots
By time rain and currents
Roots exposed like veins
On the skeleton of a skinny old man
Grass barely clinging
To what hasn't washed downstream
Yet, in shade given
By age old scrub oaks
Paltry in beauty
Compared to a willows grace
Grown in the sparseness of
fertility lacking any
Other space
The moss seems complacent
At home age old a centerpiece
Of a feast here,
No roses grown
Not any vermillion
Just washed wasted dirt
Sand loam,
An existence
For growth
A persistence
I've known