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dust Nov 2020
It’ll often feel like the stars are pressing down on you. As if the entire night sky exists only to suffocate any attempt at sleep you desire. The moon will bounce from the window, to your skin and devour every sinful thought you conjure up.

You can hold on so tight to the feelings, attempt to make them feel so new but they aren’t new to you. Every breath in unison to home, every sigh creating a larger mountain of words that nobody else is willing to climb. Try so hard to forgive them.

Tell yourself all about their sorrow & pain, justification. Always a justification for the lashes. Creating a perfect circle until the sun rises. You’ll go to work & when you come home to set your head upon the pillows, the moon will bounce in again.
dust Nov 2020
14.
I forget about a lot.
I give permission to my mind to let it go.
“Don’t take it so personal.”
Remind myself it’s not always meant for me.
Yet I often replay moments, words, on repeat.
“You’re not worth my words.”
There is no deliverance from those.
dust Nov 2020
13.
One day you’ll be forgotten.
Rooms will be bereft of light
& colors will become stark.
All because you won’t forget him.
He will take all those things with him
& no matter how beautiful the words
are, you can’t change his perception.
dust Nov 2020
12.
Tell me once more how it’s all suppose to be.
Fix yourself up.
Leave me standing around.
Question my motives
& deny my words.
dust Nov 2020
He said let’s play a game.
She said of course.

“So if you had to lose one of your senses, which one would you give up and why?”

“Well none of course.”

“Well that’s not how you play the game.”

“But I don’t want to be without one. How would I ever survive without seeing your eyes, touching your hand, hearing your voice, smelling your skin or tasting your lips?”

“... but that’s not how you play the game...”
dust Nov 2020
11.
Let it win.
Give up the face.
Cut down all the cares in the world.
Stop the love and affection.
You win.
Feel nothing.
Removed.
Give them what they want.
dust Nov 2020
It’s a constant drum.
Right behind the sternum,
Well maybe a little too my left.

Have you ever tried to explain your hurt?
It’s like you’re climbing a mountain,
He is a mountain.
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