March

And if this world wasn’t bitter, I’d take you where you like, I would hold your hand tight like the Earth holds the sky. And if it wasn’t bitter, and sad, and cruel, I would find a way to build a seven-story palace just for you. Walk you through a garden of greens – a garden of yellows, lilacs and pinks; I’d twirl you around and I’d be watching as the wind ruffled your blouse. I would go to the mountains looking for gold, tailor them into your hair to watch you glow. I’d hire soldiers and poets and singers and dancers, and if this world wasn’t so cruel I would buy you all the presents. And I wish I had a camera, or a pencil and some paper, so I could keep you around when the roads aren’t safer… I’d give you all my treasures but all I have are my words, and God forbid I skip them or whisper them where you don’t hear them first.  If this world wasn’t mean my wounds would be clean and my heart would be healing despite the piece that it’s missing. If this world wasn’t cruel then I’d say that I have you.

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