spread

counting regrets again on the bedroom wall. made another mark and tears begin to fall. how could i have ever been so cliche? like i couldn't see it coming and i couldn't run away. fenced in by flames of shadows surrounding this space. held down by the weight of sleep and the expression of hunger on his face.

i can spread like sweet honey through a midsummer thunderstorm.

spread

for a song in gentle harmony, like an old soul becoming reborn.

blaming myself again for what isn't my fault. made another mark and my mind is so raw. how could i have ever made myself so comfortable? i never prepared myself for something so unpredictable. my lesson is an old house surrounded by mud and trees. it shifts and creaks under the wind when dreams cross over the boundaries.

i can spread like the wildplums along your cradling vines.

spread

like the echo from your voice through the caves of my mind.

i could have spread on canvas from the brushes of chagall or picasso.

i could have spread nightly like stars on the surface above.

i could have spread lovely

if we had been moving along that way.

i would be feeling lovely if we had been moving along that way...

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