Sunflowers on a Pine Tar Bench

Maybe all this dust

Runs away being scared

Complacent that it would find some other host

Islands build geography

Holding on is lost in memory

If you were the one I'm all in for,

Better that be myself?

If the sediment held down

Sentiments loosely defined as forgiven

In that decision, how is it that we're marked by frames?

Lenses have a way of feeling, detached

Willingness is the temperance

I want to run away

Into more of substance that sticks

The digest from digestion

Hulling away seeds