Anna Myers

It’s sunlight through the windows and Van Morrison playing through the speakers, green hills and red trees and that one spot of the Heath that I know better than I know myself. 

Someone asks you about her weeks later and you catch yourself in time, but it’s a close call. You smile a good smile and say she’s doing fine, and it’s believable, really, it is.

I run away because it’s what I do best, and because staying is difficult when you’ve gone your whole life wearing your heart on your sleeve and you suddenly decide you want it back.

And if this moment’s all we have
may it be worth our while,
so kiss me again and
say you’ll remember me
in sunsets and starry eyes.

I am a stranger
but you know me so well,
and I know the ins and outs of your every scar
as I trace my fingers over ink
as I kiss every inch.

Are you gonna wake up tomorrow and wish you’d never talked to him at all, wish you’d said you weren’t ready? Would you have meant it?

Somebody’s chasing me and they’re not the kind of people you want on your trail.
I run and I run but they’re not done with me yet.

Somewhere in between here and there is the last three years of my life, and in between now and the next three are the choices I’ll make once I finish this tea. And that’s terrifying.

I still don’t know what to say,
and I still think of that ride,
and I think maybe I imagined it.

And we laughed so hard
and we were so young
but we were beautiful.