If what we write are just rambles,
why do these letters mean so much?
The way a child is mesmerized by hanging leaves
reminds me of the simplicity
of putting an arm around each other.

If I worry enough,
will my woes fade into twilight?
glass shatters as the words leave my lips
trembling I lay down one last time
and accept the fate of my actions

If I run fast can I escape
from a past that I wish would kiss my ***?
I'm a different person than that time,
and for each subsequent revelation,
I learn my life is but a line