I asked you in the confines of
a wooden cabin, what you would
pen as the hardest decision
you made, as you grew into a
time where peace made love
to us when our eyes
were too afraid.
You answered, to live despite
feeling distant, disconnected from
the center of your heart, unable to
flawlessly
mirror love to another.
We are not generals of the 19th
century Civil War, (I promise).
Parts of us are still enslaved, yes,
and the devils may never be abolished
from the barriers within our souls,
but I will recognize you
(and you will recognize me)
when I cross new lands and
your back crashes against mine,
as rain washes the boundaries
we used to re-paint with blood
of fallen animals.
We are hunters no longer,
we do not own each other,
but we partly own this life.
Partly.
We must listen to our spines,
ascend from behind corridors
and not lay in our graves
like the soldiers we once
blindly buried.
The civil wars to come
will not claim us anymore,
(I promise).
-
Written 10/22/14 @ 9:21 PM while listening to "Safe & Sound" by Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars
