Are you still here?
Waiting for me how you said you would be those years ago
That bus stop has now become a graveyard
Poisoned by feet walking too fast—
The town has become a wasteland
People shift about like tumbleweeds in a slight breeze
Almost as if not moving at all
Slow motion stares caught by our eyes
Is this why we left?
The same postcard has been piling up
Floods my dresser, pours from the mail slot
With the same address—
The same memory
How could I go back?
And I still remember this place—
The way we would sit looking out at hills we wished to climb
And seasons would pass without us.
Forever longing, waiting for our chance
To break free