Oliver Street

saw you in my dream.
You were an old house I watched on Oliver Street.
Go on, don’t be disappointed, it is only temporary.
With your eyes closed holding a photo of your family like a phantom.
It’s tough to know when you know you are letting go.
I’ll try to not let it get to me.
It won’t get through my thick pale white skin.
Just hold on with me, or let me be.
Move all your tiny chairs and furniture, take your mind off of reality.
Take a break from what you expected of me, throw them all from the balcony.
I don’t mind.
I guess we all have to leave sometime, but not us, but not me.
I’m trying to guess what will happen next.