We need to start building again,
When I can’t sort though my own anxiety I can barely appreciate this pavement, or these colors,
or you, or me.
I don’t touch any love surrounding me.
It’s acknowledged on a dimly left surface level,
like wine & cheese.
Without this looming concept of all the other places I ‘should’ be, I can finally be here and there
And anywhere I actually want to be.
We don’t have to constantly build.
Love is already seeping from our pores.
We started cracking,
Now all of the bandaids are too small.
And stop blowing kisses!
We’re all sitting down now and were listening!

How can you not see that?
Open your windows.