Better On Paper

I write about you as a ghost story from my past

Even when you are a part of my future.

I act nostalgic, hoping this will pass,

But nature can never beat nurture.

When I try to run away, the map changes,

The road spins underneath my feet.

My compass hides between sages,

It misdirects me toward defeat.

And I still write about you in past tenses,

I pretend it is my sentiment talking –

Even when I still wear your rosy lenses,

Even when you catch me sleepwalking.

Yet, I still sneak out every evening.

The tree line twists and blocks my way.

Despite my legs once again bleeding,

I reach for the sunset and scarlet red rays.

Anew I write like you never existed.

The words mourn my disoriented truth.

I wish I could run but my path is twisted,

I know it is always tied to you.

-JW