There’s always someone older,
in some twisted threatening way,
saying "when you're old like me,
you'll see - just wait"

But I’ve seen enough
and now I’d like to go home -
back to the drawing board
where I was better off
shooting for my stars alone -
to write new storylines
that aren’t too hard to be told,
and to one day reap the bountiful harvests
of the seeds I'll care to sow

And so, I find my life
up in my head -
the sparkling visions
I dare to dream beyond
the comfort of my bed,
and catch that bus each day,
and cast far my lines,
and to slowly, deftly, carve to shape
this little life of mine.

Little by little,
one step, another

I step, and I step, and I step

These brushstrokes are anxious,
but I have time and patience

I once had a steady hand
and I will once again

A step is a leap
in increments

A step is a sweeping change
in slow motion

I am worlds from where I began
I have whole universes ahead

So I step, and I step, and I step

I forget, I forget,
that we share the same world,
that we’re in the same realm,
because all of your letters
are postmarked from hell

And to think these precious lives around us
breathe your air,
and have smelled your cigarette skin,
and are your next of kin -

oh, what a comical life we live in

And, oh, but you're so sweet,
with your big laugh - you little kid,
I feel so young with you.

I ask into the air,
I ask, and I ask,
and it comforts me to ask,
questions floating above me,
swimming around me,
like an early summer's
dew-dropped morning

I ask like I breathe,
and am wiser for asking,
regardless - no, in spite -
of not knowing.

What you don’t know is
sometimes now I forget you exist
the way I used to forget myself
when I was too busy thinking of you
(and you were too busy
thinking of someone else
to bother with someone
who bothered to think of you at all)

Hey, have you ever thought of moving on?
I’m never coming back
Or is your world so empty, so small?
(You always liked it painted black)

Look, I’m just too busy to bother with
someone who only cares enough
to bother someone who’s better off

Love, I’d write you a reply
except - why even try?
If not to make my feelings known

But it’s not a worthwhile use of my time,
I would rather turn anguish to fanciful rhymes
and write for the fun of it; quite useful for a nuisance
(yes, that’s what we call you - a worm and a fly)

All I know is that life was fully atoned
until you rumbled through it
like a great rolling stone,
and crushed all the soft light
I’d been careful to grow

I’m so sorry to be scathing
(not in the slightest, no!)
just to slight you, and slice back a piece
for my once-starving bones

What you don’t know is
when I’m not forgetting your ghost
I am up in my mind
burning allllll of the photos

Still, I can’t forget
how you would like to tell me lies
just to see if I’d believe them
and you knew I always did;

a body built of blind faith
the skin of our arms touching -
two forsaken parallel lines

hands to never meet or hold
your body plumed too deep
within a cloud of cigarette smoke

And selfishly
your bold-lined letters came,
dusting off your guilt-laden coat -
you tell your tales, such make-believe,
to make belief of old false hopes

I wake sometimes remembering
our years-long fever dream
broken out in sweat of dread and shame
at having fallen for so grand a scheme

Of all things, I did not believe
in love but common decency,
until you shook me to my senses
shaking off the rosey lenses

Did you cage me or set me free?