“for not a page turns
without your words
nor does not one breath pass
without your air
and is this caravan
a burden born
wanders
wanders ever
to find that good oasis
but once more”

notes… to her. I can not say I am beholden, it is my own doing, my own undoing, knowing a thing does not solve a thing. sometimes my only respite is simple lines, as these, a temporary reprieve at that…