For Other Ways
Pack your smallest bag tight
with only things worth holding
going somewhere you can be in love
somewhere you can be lost
because the world is too big to have
every idea of who you are
and every inclination of where
It's mystery once you realize why
Don't hold close
unless cold handed
with warm breasts—lips
bury me in winter
Quickly things that go away
go away like they always have
and these that stay go moving on
and onward, on other roads
with you and I close behind
We've left our winter clothes
for better days than these and ours
we've headed north, you see
Promise me soon
of something sweet
with soft hands, holding
nothing besides
In beds just big enough for two
we lay, we part for other ways
Copyright © Christopher Steven Coan | Year Posted 2015
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