bury me

i. bury me

estefaaano_writes 

-

what is it to be buried where the wind 

doesn't bother to blow,

where the dust fears to kiss my bones,

where the tall grass grows,

tall enough to hide

the fact of a man who loved Tuscany to Stockholm.

every city, 

every barroom arguments,

and swinging doors.

bury me there.

see the islands,

catch the sunrise,

still got so much to learn, 

so much to feel alive.

one lonely soul is all i need

to lash me to this world, 

to make me believe

bury me in the last few lines

of an obituary for these trying times.

or right where i fall,

with hard liquor and dirty jokes.

carve my name in old live oak,

older than my sins.

men of stones with hearts of marble,

men of sand dissolving in the rain,

long nights alone,

head heavy of unsung trains.

bury me where i loved.

bury me where i fell.

bury me where the wind

finally let me rest.