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i like the nights where i cut up my hands
i want to run but i can hardly stand
when you took off your shirt you had freckles like mine
makes me think we were cut from the same cloth at the same time

theres a tree at the end of my street,
i used to climb it with both hands and feet
but that love i once felt is now foreign to me
its locked away, imbued or trapped in old people and things

why do i feel older then
any earthly amount, yet i see no end?
when time is moving at such a dead set pace its hard to hear it erasing

you call me up and ask if I’m around
theres nothing to do but i like the sound of your voice
and your face gives me comfort
looks like how this used to be home
you white knuckle so hard here
your grip will tire soon

we stand around so uncomfortable
i used to fix your broken body but now we both know
but don’t wanna say, in strange way
the fear we faced together made us brave and alone

now all people understand how to lose a moment you’ve been chasing




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Orafist Worcester, Massachusetts

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