compass
it doesn't make sense … where the opening is, where these feelings in my body should go. i am at home tending the children while you exist out there with a moral compass. you do not know that i see you. there is no point in writing these words except to confront myself
i follow your lead only to be left behind. i stake out on my own only to be alone
“i’ll see you soon”, said to each other, downstairs, in the november night chill. i’m not ready for you to go. i walk you as far as the station, and i would walk you home if i could. still after all these nights i look out for you