pencil shavings and falling snow,
records on the phonograph
playing songs from a lifetime ago
my body, my heart, is sore
and the melancholy mutations
of my future force me to burrow
deep, deep into the familiarity of
razors and a phone that no longer
rings, because there's no one to call
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 4:43 PM UTC
pencil shavings and falling snow,
records on the phonograph
playing songs from a lifetime ago
my body, my heart, is sore
and the melancholy mutations
of my future force me to burrow
deep, deep into the familiarity of
razors and a phone that no longer
rings, because there's no one to call
my phone feels useless now that she's not there to call
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