and it seems as if is it only ever the tips of my fingers that can
capture the heart of someone my soul used to know;
before it flees my grasp onto greener pastures where the
seasons aren’t as harsh and the soil is more fertile
to gift them a better harvest than i ever could.

maybe the fault lies with how heavy i carry my chest;
the way it creates tempest within the aether and
forces a wind so harsh it is impossible for anything to remain.
perhaps you see my soul waiting amidst the rain and
notice her wash away my words, touch and longing gaze.

perhaps it is fear;
perhaps it is this ever growing ache;
perhaps it is the severity of my fate that awaits me on Gods earth.

and so i feel my heart break even though i always pretend
that none of this ever mattered to me anyway.
the air is poison and our minds are the well we draw from;
we all know our fate and
we sit and stare at a pretty screen
watching the mirror take from us everything
the human race should’ve been.

so do i care if i can’t capture your heart?
i mean, it isn’t like it was fine art or
the harps that i hoped would play when our fingertips touched.
really the day never ceased in staying the same before or
even after you came.

i think the only heart i miss is mine,
but darling, we’ll talk about this another time.
for now, enjoy this book about my trips through time and
remember to keep your soul as a companion through your life.