i'm going to tell you a pathetic truth
i'm getting over you,
and i feel guilty for it

i feel guilty for acknowledging the sprouting feelings
for another man
who is nothing like you
and it feels so nice, i feel like i should be ashamed of it
i can feel myself changing,
like the phases of the moon
hiding the side of my face i called my good side
because it was the cheek you kissed
when we began and ended

i always thought i was lucky, you know
if i even got to feel this way once
and you were my once
and i had decided it was enough
and we ended
i had decided it was enough

the mere thought of experiencing this again
restarting
reintroducing
refalling
however many times it takes to get it right
twists my heart up

because i wanted to get it right the first time
and with you

and i'm starting to care less
and that feels wrong
which might make no sense
because this is probably good and supposed to happen

but i don't think i can take having something so good again
and not being sure i get to keep it this time

because what if it doesn't work out
and even scarier,
what if it does

I've lived in all times but these.
Going uncharted, through lands
i've only heard of in pubs

The crossing is a hop
over a low wall
and into brambles

Where I'm from,
the sea never allowed
for fruit and flowers

There was only
the blast, rolling
off the water

The air here
is patient. The people here
are patient

They've never been
on borrowed time.
Boredom belongs to them

And it's hard
to recognise
their joy

This, a balm,
to a girl who knows
happiness in others,

only as the white-eyed,
frothing panic
of consumption.

I am in a different land
They tell the time
much as we do,
But it counts for less