looking for my out, i’ve been here before.
with music in my head and frustration on my hands, i divide my life.
i divide into what is and what should be, what will and will not, who will be ravaging my body and who will not.
where the days go is a place in my seemingly small heart, where they boil and bloom into smiles galore.
nostalgia is something that has waned.
it holds no place in me.

faces and bodies, come and go.