Spaciousness

The roads are drenched with too many wished
upon hearts, and my eyes resemble sewage from
cities that were cast away in all their fame-

I won't be able to be there.
I can't be who you want me to be,
for self-hatred comes in many forms
but you never even considered it was
a thinkable thought for me.

Would it be easier if I turned into a statue?
Hair frozen, unable to be provoked by the wind
or warmed by fragrances of spring.

Springtime is too far away.
This is snow you see outside, not rain...

yet I yearn for the remixed water
to cage me up in silver cascades few
will be able to rein in, and make you forget
I was here.

-
I held volume.
-

So don't fret love, for it's not below zero.
You will not be contorted into hardness and coldness
without reasons

I never had

---
Written March 6, 2012 at 6:50 pm.