And in this moment
I have died
and am born again.
A king in cardboard boxes
dances through the drunken haze
a stag steps into the clearing
leading me back to the road
where my family awaits
their songs of pain and life
fall to deadened ears
another second has passed
and I'm back again;
I ask you if you leave or are left
because I want to do what is right
for both of us
in drunken reverie.
My love is constant
for when I am not.
My spirit is free
for when I am here.
My mind is always reaching for you
so please listen.
I am not one to stay
when there is nothing left for me.
****** love poem. let me ask you a question; are you one to leave or be left? We all do both but we lean towards one or the other. I usually never stay, people need to learn to let go but somehow I'm stuck.
I was going to write down my dream from last night but i woke up to you instead.
i miss you but these are words lost in the wind so i will keep them here instead.
Something about what I never had
something about what is to come
something about cycling through
again, and again.
02:22 being wistful
— The End —