it seems like only yesterday
that she was begging me to stay
so very very
far away

"help me find what it is to be" 

(this might be happening) 

connect a broken person
to a breaking machine 

you look well,
you hope.
you feel ok,
you say. 

t-shirts that say things
and drinking from rivers.
rubbing sore shins,
and watching you sleep
beneath these lights,
that fan,
the consequence of holding hands.
we'd run,
and run,
and I think we'd meet,
but for these bloody
concrete feet.

but your day is almost over, dear,
your day is almost done.
we're just watching for the weather, dear,
wondering when to run.

thoughts of you
in spidery blue
on poor pretend wood