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iâve been thinking of you since july and now iâm feeling less and less.
i heard your name, i found your letter from december last year and though it was really more a poem and you didnât ask, hereâs my reply. iâve been calling you and now iâm wondering if itâs you whoâs calling me and iâm to blame but all negligence aside
itâs been a waiting game, a slow withdraw from grace and i hope your sleeping better, iâm finding ease in the cold, in the still out in the woods just slightly east of here, just west of there you told me thereâs a place you go where you feel most alone
why are you here again when i let you go? young and frail. woke up fucked again. june in the trees, you on my mind, courage to feel it all.
iâm still writing you, iâm still thinking of the airport just south of here i let you walk to in the rain to run from the world and hide from the past in the fog and the grey, quiet still, moving slow.
was i a thousand feet below? were you a thousand miles gone? so many pieces left behind not one simple reply.
we move to stay whole.