the only time i miss you is every single day

you speak of stars and sand. uncharted maps for which you already know the path.

i speak of dark and cold sheets. broken compasses and faulty legends.

i'm alone here in this hotel, while you wander off into the world, taking notes and casting charm.

my words fall on drunk ears, eager but tainted. i make company with empty chairs.

you prefer seats that move and feet that take a risk.

i prefer hands that guide and somewhere safe to hide at the end of the night,

you say it's simple and i disagree

because i can't live the story when i've already seen the ending.

but we're the same you see.

we're infinite.