Reid@YWP

There you go again:

Reciting beautiful words 

that no one cares about.

My broken mouth waits impatiently;

Your swift fingers sewed it shut 

I’d like to garden

My own heart,

To pull the weeds of sadness

And hate

From the foundation

I sprout from,

To plant seeds of hope

I Miss The Old You

When we first met

I had no idea

You would become so important to me

But I’m starting to wish

We never met

Now I’m forced to remember you

The days I wake up

and fall asleep

and move through the world

tired and clumsy,

it is hard to know the truths

of what I am grateful for.

Those days,

I am grateful not for winter,

The stone wall upon which he sits is crumbling, rough and moss covered, but it is home. 
He stares up at the migrating geese, their honks loud and clear in the crisp air.