I never read your letter.
I can’t bring myself
to confront the sting of
budding,
simmering
Regret.
I can’t bear to
part the veil which shields
my failures from my
body,
from my lips
and legs
to listless
hours
spent
avoiding variables;
violent
vestiges
I ignore to keep
my weary eyes
above water.
See, reality wrinkles
its nose at the fantasies my insanity
can concoct
when I’ve yet to find a reason
to chase you away.
When the tethers of my grip
have yet to give way to anxiety, leaving me to wonder
if I feel too happy,
look too good,
want far more than what
my karma will allow.
I never read your letter, as I’ve been
consumed with playing
dress-up, draped in finery and fixtures
fit to outshine all the glow of
unshed tears
under pulsing
neon
light.
I'll coax it open it yesterday, but never tonight.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 4:58 PM UTC
I never read your letter.
I can’t bring myself
to confront the sting of
budding,
simmering
Regret.
I can’t bear to
part the veil which shields
my failures from my
body,
from my lips
and legs
to listless
hours
spent
avoiding variables;
violent
vestiges
I ignore to keep
my weary eyes
above water.
See, reality wrinkles
its nose at the fantasies my insanity
can concoct
when I’ve yet to find a reason
to chase you away.
When the tethers of my grip
have yet to give way to anxiety, leaving me to wonder
if I feel too happy,
look too good,
want far more than what
my karma will allow.
I never read your letter, as I’ve been
consumed with playing
dress-up, draped in finery and fixtures
fit to outshine all the glow of
unshed tears
under pulsing
neon
light.
I'll coax it open it yesterday, but never tonight.
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