I either smell like coffee or rain.
a cat in a chair.
I sit and I stare
with reading glasses drinking champagne.
a beat up book
with a marked up page.
expensive tastes that mellow out with age.  
I feel like I have wooden bones
that itch with a wanderlust to see remnant stones.  
i am chopped down.
cut off.
lost roots that never grew.
what **** do I even want?
I don’t know if I ever knew…  
I burn with a desire
something that burns in my blood.
but I can’t seem to find it?
a fire put out with a flood.
was it a dream to inspire?
or something to love?
what can give fire a different hue?
a longing for travel?
I don’t know if I ever knew….