Love Lost

A year older.

A year wiser. 

Time slips out from my grasp like the oceans tides, 

Natural yet terrifying in the most nauseating way, 

I’m sick of growing up.

Oh, Bird, tell me how does it feel to float on wings of ivory and gold?
What is it like to have the world at your fingertips? 
Tell me of the world beyond these acres, 
Of the thrilling adventures in which you sing. 

My life has a soundtrack, bluesy rock that sounds like cooking with my grandfather on Sunday afternoons, mild indie rock that feels like cool fall air, and walking on pine needles, early 2000’s alternative that smells like cinnamon and my mothers