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{the leaving} jess burnquist Thousands of clouds have dissipated Since I sat on the white hood of your Galaxy Gripping the most forbidden part in my hand Piloting us into adulthood. Aren’t we Just like nesting dolls? The girl inside me becomes smaller, just like Shells harden beneath a glossy exterior. You think I left you for someone else So I allowed that to become your story. During our night in the desert I dreamt of you boarding a train without me. Your brown hair grew rapidly, my voice failed While the whistle signaled for speed. I am just now waking to the pace of this life. Travel doesn’t slow time, neither does Staying in one place. We’re not Done with one another And perhaps it will be a dream when after all of this You pry apart my aging wooden selves and I begin Crackling from a faint memory of roads. |
