The Burned Out Porch Light

Please don’t wait for me. I am no longer there in the prairie grass, bare feet, and a purple cast from tripping on a stake by the barn.

Please don’t wait for me. I am not in the precious faded black jeans back pocket you try to keep me in.

Please don’t wait for me. The rose-colored porch light will burn out before I step on the rotting boards of that wrap around porch again.

Please don’t wait for me. 

<3 M.