Like tendrils, these dirt roads flair out

Into the secret countryside;

The nation’s tall, but also wide,

And more than any one of us, no doubt

Bring what you may to who you can

Use colors others think too bright

When you’ve no engine, be a kite

And float away without a plan

He might have been a hologram,

For he was never really there,

And though he did profess to care

He never really gave a damn

my feelings make no sense, i must confess:

the autumn comes, the fading of the flowers —

but can we truly lose what wasn’t ours?

and yet i feel it deeply, nonetheless

She’s haunted, with ubiquity:

A presence bright, who blinds and burns:

She sees her, everywhere she turns —

The woman that she used to be

No stitch can mend, no balm can salve,

Nor hope bring back, nor love, nor fear,

What should have been, who would be here —

The only father that he’ll ever have