Ode.

He keeps me at arm’s length,

locked behind the bars with all of his other garbage.

Good enough to be in it,

a part of it,

but not enough to be above it.

It sounds cliche to say I’ll be there for him,

but what else do you say when you’ve unearthed the mountain?

I’m sorry, I wish I was better at this.

I wish you were too. . .

Then there wouldn’t be a need for this space,

or these

Chains.