like cement walls between me
and where you stand.
Although I've come to know you
I reestablish lines and webs
and barriers for you to cross
or not cross.
Conversations in star-lit pastures
won't amount to much when you're
leaving quickly anyway,
because it seems like they
and you and everyone
is always leaving,
for where we never know.
What words will we trust anyway.
Words Spilling down pages,
like hands running down my back
and across my spine, melting
away and gripping, re-gripping
who we've become.
