I will be gone one day from where i am now.
Linear.
She wants to curl into chest,
their hand stroking her hairline just barely touching her surface.
She wants to kneel over their pools and bless the water
with vessel’s virginity and cough over the slience
She wants to scream she wants to yell
She wants to feel their beard bristles licking over her cheekbone
just kissing her all too silent hairs,
small and lined up like a grid of trees over their dry grasses and
elongated bark branches.
They remember you walking down a dry, dirt packed path,
following your feet to that home
That old modest Victorian with walls so old you could not tell if they were made of wood
or brick
Rounded by trees so dense you could not see the driveway,
dirt or pavement,
leading to their front door,
daughters running up to say hello
You saw that small patch of garden tilled soil, bare with clay indentations
where the small pebbles of seeds will grow.
You could see the woman, dipping her catalyst hands in the soil petting down the earth,
wishing only for rain
As the mountains bulbously laugh in the distance, arching over those humongous trees
Not another house in sight.
Yes. You will live there one day.
With your tomatoes, babies, trees, mountains.
All lined up like arm hair resting on his chin.
She wants to curl into chest,
their hand stroking her hairline just barely touching her surface.
She wants to kneel over their pools and bless the water
with vessel’s virginity and cough over the slience
She wants to scream she wants to yell
She wants to feel their beard bristles licking over her cheekbone
just kissing her all too silent hairs,
small and lined up like a grid of trees over their dry grasses and
elongated bark branches.
They remember you walking down a dry, dirt packed path,
following your feet to that home
That old modest Victorian with walls so old you could not tell if they were made of wood
or brick
Rounded by trees so dense you could not see the driveway,
dirt or pavement,
leading to their front door,
daughters running up to say hello
You saw that small patch of garden tilled soil, bare with clay indentations
where the small pebbles of seeds will grow.
You could see the woman, dipping her catalyst hands in the soil petting down the earth,
wishing only for rain
As the mountains bulbously laugh in the distance, arching over those humongous trees
Not another house in sight.
Yes. You will live there one day.
With your tomatoes, babies, trees, mountains.
All lined up like arm hair resting on his chin.