old old poem

wrote this probably 12 years ago. the original line breaks were pretentious. i hope these are slightly less pretentious…

—–

a good day sometimes means forgetting you for five minutes instead of four, four instead of two, two instead of one. and so on.

there are times when the heartache is not so precise, when my day is vague,
when the long floating breadth and depth of your scent of your laugh
invites me only for a moment and the door is left and not slammed in my face.

here and there i am not entirely mal-
content.

my lungs ripen on the river and rocks instead of on you.
but i miss the ache.

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About betterpast

Thirty-seven and counting. View all posts by betterpast

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