People Who Expect Nothing In Return

Raw. Vulnerable. Honest.

You remind me to exhale the crumbling pieces.

It doesn’t matter the canyon width of longing

Or the tumultuous curve of bending roads.

No matter for ego or dreams to come to fruition

You are messy art work, the fun, soul ablazing kind.

And I hate how angry you get at times

Or worse, that I actually think your anger is justified.

I want days to soar for you, to have soft, chuckling eyes

To decipher your deep hurts as patches of frost and nothing more.

And I hate how lonely I can feel your bones rustle with some cold truths.

But you could never be

Cold to me.

You help this crazy, babbling soul

Remember what its like to thrive

In a relentlessly, dying

Winter.