her.
Take her, for she surely is yours,
Your voice, your trouble, body, and more.
And me? What am I? I’m no longer here—
A sitcom pilot, an episodic fuck-up mere.
Hold onto her, for that’s what she wants,
And me? What am I? A bird, a drone, an unmanned plane.
War burned down my airports,
And those runways they build for so long.
Hold onto her, for she’s always been yours,
Yesterday, in the morning, and when we were together.
You were always in the deepest of thoughts,
And every time, it was me you sought.
You won’t be able to handle her like I did,
But she chooses with her soul, not her body.
I fly through the storm clouds recklessly,
Black boxes, like memories, of what we wanted to be.
Hold onto her, you fool, until your final day,
Kiss her gently, you scoundrel, as you should.
Pay no attention to the fuselage and debris,
I flew her through the sky for so long, you see.
