Everybody has their own struggle
(so be kind).
We live for Mondays,
beginnings and
ends...
In betweens and out of
bounds,
breaks/my/thoughts
into scores
and boards. I want
to leave this city, because it's
almost time,
to not get kissed under the mistletoe
and to not get kissed on new years.
To not share the miracles
and warmth of the family~
accompanied by torn off coincidences.
But don't waste your time
on me, it's useless to search the cupboards,
even if you say this is different.
Everybody shares what little they can
they get a hold of.
Indulge.
And like jealous orchards,
it's out of season.
They leave.

                                  You will too....
                                                        ­                      *....you have to