A tree grows a root, deep and strong,
It carries water and nutrients from the soil,
To the leaves, so they can soak up the sun,
Allowing this ancient giant to thrive forever.
I wish I was like a tree, rooted to a home,
Someone with the will to stay,
A story held within my core, with the wisdom of something so old,
But I am not.
I am more like a bird, flying high,
A creature with the insatiable desire to leave and explore warmer places,
Only to come back, time and time again,
Never staying but also never leaving.
So I am a bird, but I make my home in the tree.
Can I be both?
Just when I think I’ve heard the last of you
You come traipsing back into my life
Larger than life itself
And remind me everything
I tried so hard to forget
And the worst part is
It’s not even you
It’s the memory of you
I sleep and your face surfaces in the dream world
I try to sleep and can’t seem to think of anything else
I stare up at the ceiling and can’t shake you
You’re rooted in my subconscious
I wish I could undergo some surgical procedure
To extract you from my brain
But I guess I’m resigned to living a life
Without a say in who remains in it