The days fall through me bruised and orange
and my feet touch nothing but Nevada red dirt
does summer come with brakes
or must I shade it all myself?

I need the peace you have

I see you find it in your morning tea
and the kids you love
every day

Who believe in magic and gnomes
they have fairytales
of acorns and moss gardens

and it is the only thing I want

August came
   with stinging goodbyes
   in the full-glory of a red sun
   over pastures, cabins,
   and so much hope I couldn't bear it

I know nothing of what's happened here
    but this place, these soft people

And at least it doesn't feel like rotting anymore

Just the longing
   of lambs bleating
   and children waiting

I have dreams about your softness
and I'll write about my jealousy
while I’m kneading the sleep from my eyes
kneading bread on the counter
kneading my tired heart

In a dream we went to the mountains
It took two hours to get there
and I spent most of it searching for a tree
that looked like home

The sunset was a soft flame
over mountain pastures
and those yellow flowers you love

We sat in the springs
soaking inward, but mostly out
while the cold kissed my shoulders
while I had a dizzy head
and you slowly removed all your clothing
throughout the night

and by the end of it
I was certain we were dreaming
Of slate sand and hot springs
the clear night and it’s star-dappled pines
Tiny bats and bugs on bare skin
but mostly me and my hazy eyes
still searching for home

I’m all hopeful and fleece bits
but there’s blood in the soup
and a bitter taste in all our mouths

She's all morning sleep and maple lattes
but there’s heartbreak under her sheets
and burnt bridges in the telephone wires

We’re all hazy summer and weary nature
but there’s castles on mountains
and softness in the water.

Almost entirely,
we smell like lavender
and brush our teeth with honey-baked laughter

I found two magical things this morning, even before breakfast
but this life is not just fire, it’s burning
And my romanticised campground does litter itself with children and lemon balm

With this stress, it's all pulled apart
and the bits forgotten
but it’s okay; I’ll put the pieces into your food
and make sure it’s tasty

For now it’s better to have dreams about rats in the flour
than the nightmares that we used to have