you are always frozen in the moment i last saw you--
the rain streaking sand-blond strands with gold, the leaves all
wet and tired, rushing along the rivers in the concrete.
this is all suburbia tries to be, a miniature version
of everything we tried to paint on the walls as kids.
you rub my wrist raw with your requests,
oh, what i wouldn't give to run through the woods to fetch you something
once more. what i wouldn't give to be your little showrunner,
the one who kisses you on the cheek before you
conquer that stage.
could i be your muse? an ocean away, you are still mine--
you couldn't remind me of my own name and the sync of your breath
with mine is long gone, but i'm still holding onto you
because maybe missing you for long enough will bring you back.
i am still a child when it comes to you,
perhaps i am frozen too.
