chicory

You Already Do...



Last night I dreamed that you were gone.
You packed your bags and took the train.
Sooner spent than you’d expected
From all the times before.

I am the new, pressed Cotton.
I am the antique Key.
I am the open Window to your bedroom.
I am Light behind your teeth.

Desperate and relevant
Were the words I spoke to you.
On my knees, it wouldn’t have been any better,
Nor tears of knowing what you were about to do.

I am the Curl at the end of a hair,
The Letter lost at sea.
I am the Brush and not the master,
The unsought Answer.

It’s hard to change what’s already been cured,
Simpler to just break free and start anew.
I could only be what I’d designed.
If I could give you all your wishes

I would.

If I could be your favorite color.
If I could be your favorite season.
If I could be all the things you ever wanted,
Then you wouldn’t need an orchid August.
Then you wouldn’t need the sweet Smell of rain.
And you wouldn’t need the Sound of a tree
--caught in the wind,

You’d have Me.

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