Half a life later I have this green couch, which I lay on alone / belting melodies for my neighbors to hear as though I’m connected / but I’ve never been so disjointed / torn between zip codes and time zones and my body remains but my heart is elsewhere / searching, always yearning to find the way it felt to have your arms around me strumming / and laughing when I got it wrong but sliding closer with hope between us / but our lack of oxygen smothered the fire before it burned / and I smelled the smoke all night

A green velvet chaise
dad’s used guitar in your hands
you laid the blue print