you could walk a two hundred mile trail
under the moonlight solace
or sit on the most profound corner
of your black hole
spend two hours on what ifs
and contemplate on why nots

write about the people you loathe
and sing to the people you adore
you could do anything
and be anything

but whatever i am or whoever i was
was a residue left on your christmas plate
lingering in the dark halls of your thoughts
and breathing in your monday day dream