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February 7, 2015

The city smells different

in the rain. Not like my country

not like their desert.

I think I like it, it's just so

foreign.

I feel foreign, here, there,

I have everywhere.

Everywhere is strange,

everywhere, I'm strange,

except for your arms.

Take my home, my dear.

I tire of blazing my own trails

my own paths through the

jungles of this life. They all

end up where you are.

I don't feel like fighting

to be there; where I've always

belonged. We've always

belonged together. Just hold

me there with you. Please.

The rain feels like truth

with you by my side. The

storms look like your pacific

eyes. Stay, love, let me convince

you to stay. Every word I speak

is a song of redundancy, a hymn

to hold your celestial form

on my temporary earth. Please;

please. I know I'm far from your

floating existence, your skies of

serenity. But they are where I plan

to be, they're where I fell from,

my darling, please hold a spot for me

in your heavenly heart. Every

dreary day, I journey towards it.

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