Friendship...or lack of |
I meet you there I see your face and here our laughter We sang of mountain heights Dreamed of Mexico Wondering of our thereafter. A couple of uprooted southern bells Born with suitcases in their hands never were what they expected Never could follow the best laid plans. I know we shared Our quest for play Our life of seeking Our own peculiar way. Never in us were groundings Of love so craved A stabilizer to soothe Brokenness of the enslaved. We connected on those grounds And sparked a journey of tries Ignorant to where we would be brought to We mastered our disguise. Feeling as lost as we always were We conjured our retreat Mountain heights Mexico Perpetual passive trust Trapped in valleys of vicodin lust. to be removed is do or die death became fantasy interrupted by moments of grievous play the time did pass everything good to be replaced. so tired...so so tired weak from dying this slow death won't you let it rain take this final breath. when light spoke in and startled my plight unfamiliar love swallowed my fight. a chasm of accepted grace now separates us in every way where you are is where we lived you forget |