I saw them once, when I was little. Maybe age four or five.
The tree on the other side of the fence had branches stretching over our garden. It was too tall for me to reach the succulent, juicy
...
[+]
Now, had you ever cared to inform me
Of what it means to waste careless years
Wishing that I was anywhere but here,
Perhaps I could embrace this idea of new-age wholeness
As one forcibly embraces discordant notes in utterly forgettable symphonies,
With eager hands clasped in anticipation of a return to what was promised.
And yet, I don't crave an escape from the comfort of
The home I found in the feeling of your skin pressed
Tightly against mine; a quiet rebellion.
For once, I beg of you,
I don't need you to lead me to a way out of here.
I just need you to sit here with me,
Unmistakably taking up space.
Of what it means to waste careless years
Wishing that I was anywhere but here,
Perhaps I could embrace this idea of new-age wholeness
As one forcibly embraces discordant notes in utterly forgettable symphonies,
With eager hands clasped in anticipation of a return to what was promised.
And yet, I don't crave an escape from the comfort of
The home I found in the feeling of your skin pressed
Tightly against mine; a quiet rebellion.
For once, I beg of you,
I don't need you to lead me to a way out of here.
I just need you to sit here with me,
Unmistakably taking up space.