You asked,
what’s the point anymore?
Of us, of everything we’ve been through,
and in that I found I was so tired of being
inside of goodbyes.

I’ve been driving in circles searching for brighter days, when everything that embodies them has only been 2 miles away. I’ve spent so much time hiding under my own eyelids that I forgot my waking moments aren’t supposed to solely consist of whiskey moonlit nights. I tried so hard to block out the white noise, but I couldn’t help but hear your voice, whispering in the sway of the sprouted flowers emerging in the cracks of sidewalks. I became complacent with rainy days, but still couldn’t help but see your face in the subtle beams that break through greyscale skies.

You asked,
what’s the point anymore?
And I realized the point is us,
nothing but a linear pair.
And as much as we try,
our lines can’t help but intersect.