In a place beyond where we laugh
Past the birches, the moors, and the swamps
Under a hunters moon and hidden from ourselves
These demonic truths
Who we are, who we aren’t
The sacrifices, the angst.....
I drink with my truth
She mocks me, taunts me
I love her
It’s like walking through a blizzard to a fire that just keeps moving further away
The snow is cold and deep
And yet I keep typing
All the while knowing
That for as much as I love writing
She’ll never love me back