lines an old cracked highway.
the distance gets thicker and thicker
like every time a leaf falls
its like the season is almost over
but its barely even started ,
we're in the midst of it.
but sometimes memories aren't enough.
a simple touch from an older woman,
my equivalent to a grandmother,
leads me to feel understanding
that i didn't always feel.
an old graveyard
a familiar town
the distance between us is a gaping hole,
and sometimes i can't seem to close it
because on the bus the lights are so white
that sometimes i pretend i will never get off
and that I'm going nowhere
that im at someone elses full dispense,
like you so often were at your own.
and then i dont remember how to close it
like i use to.
