A poem on negotiations.

–

I can only give you forever so many times,
and you can only take it
as long as you promise
to look after it.

You have to feed it constantly.
It’s always starving.
It loves walks through fields and on
seasides; mountains make it anxious.

They go up too high, go on for
well, ever; just not the kind of ever
Forever prefers. Forever likes horizons,
a sailor in its bones.
Going up only means
coming down.

Forever likes sleeping in your bed.
Forever likes watching you brush your teeth.
Forever likes bubble baths, but that’s
just a preference thing.

Forever never really wants to leave you,
you know. And every time I come by to
take it home, I never really want to leave,
either.

I can only give you forever so many times
before forever and I want you.

—

An old poem. I’ve been thinking about reincarnation, and sleeping. I’m also running on about four hours in the past two days though so I might just be delirious.

xx,
Meg

Photo taken in a tiny shaded graveyard in London, near Camden. She’s the muse of poetry, coincidentally enough.