PLAN IT

rain hangs in the air, swells my eyelids.

seasons never change without a storm.


the time has come for the observer to be observed.

they wait for months for me

and you barely waited until I was eighteen.


the winds lift my hair with my permission, spread,

until I become a fearful sight of flame

a standstill dance


I order coffee with room

and wonder how long it will be

until the barista's eyes linger not for love,

but for faint familiarity


will there come a day 

when I long to draw away 

to an alpenglow town and sling coffee by dawnlight

rather than see my face posted on glossy pages and screens


plan it, orb it.

try to shape it into your hands

there's no making sense of her nonsense


the writing is on the wall, not the stars

the darkness a canvas for my creativity

that which you have given me


could she run forever ?

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