I drive by your mother’s house
Though she’s asleep, and you are out
Two thousand, eight hundred and ninety eight miles away
To be precise
Just to smell that air again
To feel nostalgia mixed with pain
For the days when you were here
And I would come when you’d call
In a parallel world
I am a much more lovable girl
You’re reading me new pages from your great novel
You’re holding my hand as if you need it
But here, I only ever fell in love
So I could play the game of
Long-dead poets called genius
As only men and suicides can be called
So that when our bodies are
Dust specks in the beams of unnamed stars
The words I’ve assembled for you
Will still exist
I write songs for you but you don’t listen
Worse than judgement, silence means indifference
But someone will hear them
So they will live forever
Though you and I will never be young again
I keep driving
I keep writing
I am circling
I may never land
