In a shrill corner with overcast clouds dully wasting the day for contemplation washes in brackish waves flood mouth and eyes
I tell you but no better words hover lazily like dust caught in light
In the shrill corner held with fierce intensity, the best way small palms can clench. you were some treasure I'd finally found which might slip from my pockets, of threadbare fabric burying between the thistle and trash by the sidewalks' path by my own oversight
you make a promise I canβt swim to the bottom for fear of what truth might look like.
Consumed without discretion. without abatement. smoke and ashes will settle into bloodstream and bone leaving fossil traces
If one day you want to slip between the fibers to be among something new I will understand let you pass
with fists clenched. around their flesh I will make a promise.