I’ve been collecting
all of my tears
from the last few years,
gonna grow something beautiful.

Sitting in a storm,
the sound of flakes falling
crushes the sound of smiles not calling,
swear it’s been over a year.

Sitting in a parking lot.
5am, I can’t say what day it is.
I wonder if snowflakes worry.
Seem so much like me.
Falling? Or floating? They’ll just melt in the sand.
Do they have a favorite song?
Can they admit when they were wrong?
Do they see pushing forward as moving on?
Do they feel the need to hurry?
Do they remember everything?
The things they said, but didn’t mean?
Do they worry?
Always coming down. Hanging. Coming down.
Flying or falling or floating.

Sleeping, keeping warm.
The shade from the sunshine caving
crunches white likeness while footprints pave things,
missed it for over a year.

I’ve been collecting
all of my tears
from the last few years,
gonna grow something beautiful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s