A body moves in this darkness,
a wayfarer of sorts pedals feet.
Travel is one all minds will meet.
I should have filled the water for you before I left.
Not that you can’t, but I worry for your wrists.
I know how you love to play,
and cringe to think how it sometimes can be in pain.
And here I am quiet,
I look up and catch your smile as you sit on the toilet.
Gross – A word that not once came to mind;
Even without a rose colored lens;
Your caring color is the way I saw you
Your hair is down, so that means you’ll wash it now,
I always like to put my hands through it and remove the tangles.
How long did it take me to remember not to splash water off my shoulders and into your face? You say it’s fine, but I fear not learning from my mistakes
I didn’t get the chance to hang the painting back,
But that’s usually how leaving turns out in the end.
Selfish at times, but I think in ways I made it right.
How arrogant of me to pen that in here as a line.
My very last words to you, I know you’ll be just fine.
But if you’re feeling it, hearing from you would be nice.
And did you ever talk about that shock you got living in your spine?
Yes you know you’re a magic entity, and it’s all familiar lines.
A taste you’ve had, blood you’ve sowed, your palms where sprouts begin to grow