No longer be able to lap in the confines of tall wheat
Tell my private things to a close friend in confidence just like a teenage romance novel
You will no longer be able to unwillingly sob into a strangers shoulder
No longer have memories of dreams shrouded in the elegant blanket of infinite reality
Lean all of those endearing qualities on a passive sigh and an always understanding goodbye
Feels good to not know what to do
Who's there if and when these things do come to see you
It'll break just like a wishbone one half bigger than the other even if unadmittedly so.
