rusted silver

if you ever want to look for me, i’m exactly where you think i am. the old house is exactly as you left it, if you look past the thin glassy dust that got left on the surface. if you’re not afraid to stick your soft hand into the rotting cabinet you might still find a drink or two, liquor seeping into the cracks of the wood. the angry boy who was once here is long gone, and his footsteps still echo in the hallway.

if you’re still looking, i’m not far from where you left me. the darkness looks a little odd from this far down, the blue tinged with metallic browns and washed out purples that paint the hollow ceiling and snuff out all hopes of life. the ground is sandy and my eyes still burn as i look up at the world we once both used to see.

if i told you to stop looking i doubt you would anyway.

beyond the caves where all our hearts were broken, i still look for you. and while summer has long left the streets we used to roam i still feel the warmth from somewhere, from the broken swords left behind and from the days we spent watching the stars go by. glints of rusted silver. i wouldn’t go back. but i wouldn’t go forward, either.

maybe that should have been the end. but something is still missing, and the scarecrow haunting the wheat fields still has one more story to tell. the road not travelled may be bright from afar but the fences are cold and high as the castle we never lived in. i could walk this whole town five times over and still i’d choose this over what was to come.

(tragedy hits in different places, but not every crater is a travesty. take the starlight with the ashes and make yourself a home.)

[Image: a place in the UK. Source: Dani Relbyn. Used with permission]