Written February 17th 2018
you are meadows in the summertime
when the sun is finally setting
you are pages of a new book
as a child reads over them with widened eyes
you are gentle breeze
whilst lounging under a great oak tree
But you are lies and hurt and goodbyes.
When I reach the door to exit,
you beckon me back as though
you will never leave me again
And I am the fool for taking your hand
when I know you will only lose your grasp
along the way.
So forgive me if I fail to trust you,
but I would rather be alone
than be a shadow of myself
like you had made me.
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