I'm too far gone
in my fallen
terrible poetry
to save you
any receipts

All the longing
that's been endured
to be back in
another's arms
just to now be so unsure
whether I'm ready for it

For it'd be nice but it'd
be wrong for me
to love you so deeply,
to pick you up, just
to let you down easily

I'm moving through life
so hastily, at pace
for my youth.
moving to each and
every block as new

When I'll stop no one knows.
but when I do,
when I arrive,
I'd hope to see you there
waiting on a park bench