i might leave a greener pasture
for a field of blue roses.
and some time spent
on the coast.

these hands were built
for bricks and
failure. made for
disappointment like a
bowling alley gutter.

dont even get me
started on the rest of it.
i have too much of a
bad thing and we are all
children at play.

i am known to leave
a good thing behind.
but ive never had
a great thing before,
so im not sure
how to feel.

i could start softening
the mortar again,
or just suffer in silence.