the tops of our trees, the lack of leaves,
with a pulse.
there's eloquence in contrast. Contrast.
makes up the tone of our days,
the fridays we choose not to wake up for,
smelling the sweetness of our cigarette against the coffee we were far too lazy to sweeten,
but there's beauty in the raw. in the raw, throb, of a break in routine,
in analyzing the why and where,
why i'm stuck in Virginia, why father stopped paying child support,
where a drink turns to alcoholism,
where people insist on resisting to a permanence in memory. Or,
the opposite, a beg a plead to remain.
to stay.
why he begs me to stay,
more so, why i push the love in my life away