Scrollin past ol’ conversations
and wonderin what it is I saw in him

the hate, the anger, the stupidity
the flaws, the unwillin’ness to change

somethin resuscitates deep within me an I struggle
to push it down so the regret don’t drown me
I made my choice--I love ‘im
there ain’t no backin down now

the look in his eyes, the curve of his lips
the broad chest yet untouched beneath his shirt
lookin at ‘im, I’d jest dive into it--no questions asked
turnin ‘round, I feel what he’s stitched of an I flinch

but I em unable to walk away from the choice I made

And he's scrollin through his feed and stops on her picture

integrals of goldfish and scrollin
significantly easier than expected
bracelets and blocks and rockets
from breakin a hundred

short drive the hill that rarely took
bowl of quinoa and another of pudding
just like the cups on the table of atla
waiting whistling losing air in digital pacing

it was four minutes after
one down and just to two
once again im wonderin but this time i know that its not true

cutting ice with knives and gliding with lemons
bodyprox'd knees and coworkers girlfriends
gargoyling fountains and relacing skates
i wouldnt much mind getting used to this

its dark and its late and you asked me what sort of changes id been thru
the second that ive ever told to

the first stop was closed but the next one was perfect
yoyo slingin in the parking lot
with rippled notes blastin tunes
reference typin effect affect i love you

early morning heavy bag with nothing else but hopeful
they said theyd be there soon
you say youll be there later
catan at engineering noon
was bittersweet flavored

water in the kettle
barely touched the mech on the table
last day tears in the after shelter mental
i was in the ceramics studio when you arrived when it all came together
rivers of slip and clay and dip and dip and swing

keeping printing lately squinting
we helped to bring the paper
you disappeared concerning feared
but just for shoes in your backseat

sparkled nails on the church's floor
behind the curtain essay typin
ping pong flyin wild story improv timin
next to those shoes scrollin and the topic was ace
so i dont know if its my place
but
as we left the lack of open doors was odd/
so then came back to the front lawn of god to give you a plastic bag of support
keepin rapport in some way of some sort
gracious hospitality that it wasnt raining
though when we were waiting there were trains and there was dogs/
but soon hes gone and hugged and loved

and now im in the front seat;
and then im in the drivers.

back window fogged, behind the wheel with you beside me reel and keel my necks still sore two days later just like my brain that needs a stapler
because i couldnt look at you
im scared of being fake but then/
music's meant to sing
i went to bed at 1 am
i dont regret a thing

When will this pain ****** end. She doesn't even want to be my friend.  She's already getting happier so I guess i can't really complain. My thoughts of this is hurting and driving me insane. I guess I have to try harder though I'm not really sleepin or eating. Rough patch I'm grieving. She doesn't love me anymore, she's already found a safety place. I'm here scrollin through pics of her with tears rushing down my face. Let me suffer alone, I am afraid to touch my phone. All I can do is rewatch the past. So much for life after life because she moved fast.