I play a game of hypotheses.
I am winning.

The star speckled ceiling asks,
"How will you know?"

I answer,
"Her grocery lists will win Pulitzers - a novel I can't help but read in one sitting."

The constellation laughs uneasily, knowing that it will move before I do.

The tree topped curtain creaks,
"What will you say?"

I answer,
"Too much, never enough, probably both - your mystery is the only one worth solving."

The canopy bristles. I do not know what to make of it.

I play a game of hypotheses.
I await the next question.

This is the way I deal with it
The venom between the lungs which sinister stirs on the shortened breath of shaky self-esteem
The poetic palpitation pleading please write your wrongs before they putrefy
This is the way I deal with it
It is when words dry up that the ink bleeds
Dance around your feelings, call it a campfire
Let others at least roast with the remnants of yours
This is the way I deal with it
For some it is to light the fire
For others, to follow the smoke

you ask me if i love you.
so i say
“i feel like i do.”
but sometimes my feelings lie to me
and i don’t want to do that to you.

Evening skies trickle out the tailpipes of the cars navigating freeways
Painting the air in deepening hues of curiosity made color

What if I just keep driving?
How far will I make it?

Night slips in the back door, as Day exits the front
I can not see beyond a hundred feet
I do not remember the next curve of road
I am not sure where I am going

But do I need to be?

Autumn coolly glides on the coat tails of whistled winds and trees shedding summer coats
She says she doesn't like peanut butter
Unaware of the basket of PB&J lying on the table
Does she change colors too?

Tombstones tell tall tales if you know how to listen
Stories marked by the ignorance of 'death is not here for me yet'
Billboards of birth and final breath
Anything exists in the hyphen
The too long but never long enough pause before the end