I'm scared, to not be a tenent
To stop, taking care of anothers 
It never feels like my own, anyway, but should it?

I'm owed but also owe
I'm scared of silence
Unsure, what I'll find in it

Say nothing and move away
To a new place
But you never really get anywhere, do you?

Pull your knees to your chest
Rub you cheeks across your legs
That feels like peace.

You're lieing on embers 
That need stoking 
We converse into nothing. 

I'm abalze adjacent 
In my orange hamock 
It engulfs me and rocks gently 

I've swapped seats with myself, so many times
Replaying the last words, I wont say 
It always easier to walk away

But I'm scared I love you
A homing wood pigeon
In a timber-framed nest

I might make a pocker for the fire
I do not own 
I never can 

But I can make this promise to myself, every night
I make it again
I miss you 

The building blocks
The stone, the mortar 
The pantry, the AGA