Maybe you can call out sick because today could be the day you find where those roots end and earth truly begins.
Maybe bodies arrive sick and limbs break off when air becomes too aggressive.
Maybe that human houses two genders or three and really, so many of us do.
Maybe that touch does not feel as good as you say it does.
Maybe I never understood but now it is too late to ask why why why did I leave
Maybe it is not that water turns the sky blue, but the sad in our skin reflected from below.
Maybe when you asked me where I was from, I should have said: paper.
Maybe we have carved too many scars into buildings and memories.
Maybe the way that she loved [me] was the way that she was loved.
Maybe existence is about silence and if you must tell, alert the trees; they keep secrets.