Yes, it was dark.
No, I will not give you poetry.
I wore my headphones in one ear,
tripping down grassy slopes,
and back up much-too-wide steps.
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It’s as simple as this: her hair looked soft on her cheek
And it took my breath away, my heart
In a thousand pieces- I never decided this,
Longed to ignore it, to not imagine
What could be, don’t you think I tried
To lock it all inside of me?
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Every day of my life
The bark of old oaks have whispered to me
From just beyond the garden fence
Somewhere out there
The paths and trees go on for miles
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Fickle, fragile, fumbling
I shuffle between my fingers
While you craft a masterpiece
Of paper tears and skin.
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