maybe it is all shadows that I see
an overlay drawn in china white
on tracing paper
laid over everything
with a crinkled sigh
and a puff of cold breath
I am on the verge of finding
as I have fallen over the hill in fading
and painfully telling myself I have forgotten.
yet none of that is true

if it is one thing we are all masters of,
finely tuned lies we ingrain into ourselves
as if it were the only way to keep afloat
and to slowly sink at the same time
as the leaks stream grey blasts of light
into those dark places
we try so hard to keep

and why hold onto the shadows
when they just serve as places for
things to doggedly survive
and age.

I am not sure there is enough tape
left on the spindle of the spool of my heart
to quite fix you.
I could try
I could lie
I could run away..
or just procrastinate
to wait until the unsavory fumes
have blown over