I can tell a tale of a thousand tongues and whisper sweet wisdom into your ear, but you’re too busy sobbing about yester year to feel the calm that my voice is encompassing you with.
Age is just a number and time is man made creation so do any of these really have any severe impact on the world?
I inhale your sorrow and exhale creation but does it make a difference if you would rather tumble around in self hatred?
Skip skip the record goes and you would rather play the same song then perhaps listen to the melody of new.
I fly then I cry but I hold my head high so I can be easily seen in a crowd.
You take my hand but as soon as you see the edge of the forest you cry that you’re afraid of the light.
I offer you sunglasses to shield your vision but you lament that black is just not your colour.
Excuses and fears is all that I hear but I try to tell you to just take a step.
Frozen ground it may be but soon it will be spring and the snow will turn back into green grass, but all you see is the winter full of death and desolation.
Unable to move, frozen in fear I attempt to carry you but you kick and you scream so I put you back down.
So I say my good byes and maybe tomorrow we will try again.
But tomorrow never comes, it turns into weeks and then months, and suddenly you are nothing more then a stranger.
But a part of me knows that sometimes I cross your mind, and when it does may it only be of love.
For sometimes I think of you too and think perhaps I should’ve brought you some boots.

My love is a gas station pit stop you pause at to grab snacks and then carry on your way. It is a soft place to land when you need to rest for a while and to gather strength, then keep going when you feel strong again. It never looks like ‘I could be with this girl forever ‘ but rather looks like a passing moment of months. I’m comfortable, I’m easy, I don’t demand dates and lavish luxuries, I am more content just watching movies at home and making love by the dim light of the moon. I do not pester you with questions about your whereabouts and I don’t ever talk about feelings as I don’t care to invest any of my own. I love from a distance and that is how I like it; perhaps that is why I am the girl for the wanderer. When you tell me about the new girl you met and how you feel like it’s going to be a real thing, I am genuinely happy for your finding of love; I can’t help but wonder why I am not worthy of that affection, not because I want it from you but I want to feel the rush that makes me whole body vibrate and my spirit dance. Calculated cold and logical with a twinge of deep and feeling I am too wise to love with attachment. Some days I wish I could let myself go just to feel to sting of heartbreak but I know I am not strong to recover from another shattered heart; for my heart is already broken in ways you are too self absorbed to even notice nor care. I love the broken and the messy and perhaps that is why they take refuge with me, as I am broken and messy too, I am just better at hiding it. Or maybe I am just meant to love, to love as many people as I can and that’s what I’m going to ******* do.