You Found Something

I was busy painting lily pads in the sky behind my head so that maybe I could catch a glimpse at what you meant. Like the lighting strikes that they narrate throughout the glowing stream-lined emotional factories, it’s something that comes in rings, on strings, in things.

I’m running from the sunsets and I’m holding my own hand. Do you understand? Because the fog is so dense that I’m glaring for a reason to write perpetual or to feel disappointed so that I can hear your smile in my words.

You should think a little harder so that you can dream in color because the mountains seem so far away from now. See, when you come back, I’ll be here washing ink stains off my eyelashes and smiling while I smile. Don’t take too long.

There isn't any rush from the top of the current to the crash at the end, so merrily we roll along the tainted riverbanks of expectation and watch as they watch us. They could see, we could care or…

You found something.