i’m not dying to the sound of a lonely armageddon in this cycle of seasons.
just slightly absentminded in nightmares that i refuse to end.
once you stop trying to please
the shadow of another human,
you start to awaken without screaming.
but i’ll always awaken with clenched fists
a quiet, bubbling temper
simmering on the surface.
i won’t point them eye level to you this time,
i’ve learned to shift blame,
i’ve learned to understand your accidents.
and if one of them was me,
i forgive her.