my mistress she is the wilderness the feel of the backpack weighing me down sinking my feet into the dirt dragging me back with every step i take
my mistress she is the open sky the constellations set over my head and the stars burning out and being reborn constantly in a dance not meant for our eyes
my mistress she is the heart on the face of the mountain seen by the playing children swinging on their swings pretending to fly
my mistress she is the grape soda the liquid courage the teenager drinks to help stave off the pain when writing of sad things
my mistress is the pain the hole in my heart that she left when she went away way too soon
my mistress is the feeling of isolation going beyond shutting yourself away in a room that need to be closer to her but the wilderness cannot hold you it does not have a heart beat
but sometimes the trees have her face and you feel so much closer to her think of how much she should have grown how she should have graduated with them ******
my mistress is the mountains and the peaks begging me to come step over them but they are mere ideas shaped by the earth and they only make my back hurt
my mistress is being alone where there are no hands to hold me back but still i do not jump because there are no hands to catch me no arms to hold me close
my mistress is the darkness outside my window the rain on the asphalt the smell of freshly cut grass they do not bring her back but they make life a little less painful