Deserted

Deserted

I'd have a library full of books to read the knowledge i've never known.

A library full of books to understand the survival instincts of others and know the challenges.

Become a therapist to the dead and rotting.

I’d council and talk to the decaying flesh written within the words of authors unknown.

The faded covers and worn corners tell a story of their own.

Deserted

I’d have papers and pens,

I’d map the island and draw the animals.

Sketch the crazy, lonely images in my head.

The loopy thoughts traveling through my neral stems, frantic  images of dark caves and wild eyes in the night.

Deserted

But of all the useful things i would use on this lonely island,

I want you;

Your soft hands

Your sugary sweet smile

I want to have you hold me like you used to and tell me everything is ok.

I want you here with me and nothing else.

But im stuck here on this island of thought with nothing but the voices in my head to keep me company.