Hemingway
Wounds of Recollection
I picture you on a window seal reading Hemingway; pondering life in London or somewhere you're far from here.
Somewhere you're far from here.
Let me know you're safe. I just hope you're safe.
"Let go."
I'll tell myself that until the sun burns out.
"Let go, let go."
I just want to let you go.
Your home feels so alien to you. You find yourself deep in another world where no one knows your name, no one knows your face.
It brings you peace to know it will all end one day. We will grow old and slowly fade away.
Your eyes well against the pages of Hemingway's prose that you picture yourself in. You see yourself somewhere else.
I wish I could take you there.
I wish I could take you there.
But still, we grow older.
"Isn't love any fun?"
Teach me to be unaware the world seems bleaker when I am alone, when I grow old.
When I grow old, will you still be there?
Nothing seems like it will ever be greener.
