the fortress

I woke up so empty after you left
should’ve been happy, but couldn’t care less
the price that I pay for building it up
a life like a mountain goes belly up
or maybe it doesn’t
what do I know?
I talk like an old man before I am old
perhaps it’s December informing my thoughts
or maybe it’s the fortress
and me in it alone

you make it a habit
build a place to hide
then you hide so well you can hardly be found
you can’t decide when to come out of hiding
only, I remember driving

I drove and I drove and I lost her right there
I’d left others behind, what did I care?
I could fill a wall with pictures
of those who meant something once
and I don’t have anymore
and I look at you
and one day you will ask
why all of those people are in the past
I’ve worked so hard at being honest and true
that I forgot I needed love, too

I still drive between two homes that I have
cos the moment I stop, I exist in a place
when the light pierces through the walls
then my eyes would have to remain open wide
I look at the photos of when I was fifteen
that’s when I started looking obliquely
and never regained a full opening
until the day you said you love me

and I will remember you smiling…
—