3.19.16 ////11:12pm

i love coming 
 but i always end up leaving
 ill try not to leave your blankets tangled
 ill slowly pick my silver hairs from your bed 
 in time
 hopefully my smell will be gone from your pillows
 from your body
 you’ll eventually throw away our empty beer cans
 used condoms
 cups of tobacco spit
 ill keep you in my heart for a while
 but i understand if i have to leave yours
 ill understand if you don’t want to see me
 ill get it when you stop talking
 ill still think of you 
 may even draft a message to you
 eventually delete it 
 do this again while drunk 
 and hit send
 maybe you’ll write me a letter then burn it
 i hope it doesnt hurt too bad
 i am good at coming
 and im sorry i have to leave
 but what else makes sense
 but to keep moving?
 ive learned that when i stop, i begin to grow into my surroundings
 sometimes i start to decay
 i dont want anyone to see this again
 want no one to feel responsible
 its my job to water myself
 to lean into the wind and the open roads
 sometimes i think the only thing ive ever truly loved is the horizon 
 the next town
 the next lover
 the next smoky bar room
 full of possibilities

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