Green Miles and You

Your unmistaken footsteps played a cadenced tune in my ear

Softened by my sealed window, yet to be open

It stayed unlocked, through light and dark,

As I waited for your fingers to appear at the frame,

For the upper half of your body to appear

Like a photograph I get to capture from my bed

My scraped knees denoted my escapes

Escapes from the constant voices shouting on

The other side of my hole-filled wall

Escapes from the broken dishes and wine glasses

That once served as routine night gatherings

The dying grass that tickled my toes

As soon as I landed

And the pull of my hand from your determined grip

Left all my tattered possessions viewing my back

Remnants of something that soon was my yesterday

And we fled these main roads that held fractures on their centers

And we gave in to the cold that gently cracked our skin

Making our nest in mildly grown fields,

Vacant and remote,

That hid behind the unknowing shadows of our forest

We bathed in unsoiled rivers

And saw our legs ever-changing with the small movings of waves

You laid on the curvatures of tree branches

While your chest was a foundation for my head

And you held on to the tree's limb as you securely embraced me

The miles extended while we nestled further away from noise

Where the grass grew darker in shades of green

As time passed

On what we knew to be as clocks

But we don't pay attention to each step our bare feet takes anymore

Even when they are worn with calluses

We keep them warm by the wood we meticulously assemble,

On which fire emits and the flames reminds me

Of wax objects

On hilltops which we climbed and made our temporary settlement

Right before the dawn broke in the sky where

We caught the sight of Mercury and Venus above the horizon,

Floating specks near the peak of the brightening sun

Where the streak of orange light lit in your eyes

As I gazed into them and saw

The entire illuminating sky look back at me