I’d fill my lungs with iron for you, dust expelled from the railroad. Speed trains nor freeways could get me to you soon enough, no matter how fast they go.
If I could, I would jump and spin the globe underneath and place myself in the fields of the Lakota. I’d walk to your location where the phones don’t reach and never stop until I see your smile.
It’s been a long time since I’ve forgotten what longing feels like. Don’t want to remind myself that I’m sleeping all alone tonight.
The photos in my room that once welcomed me make me wish that you had never left. It’s selfish, I know, but it’s hard to fall asleep alone in a double-sized bed.