Tuesday, October 16, 2018

the very thought

The skies above have nothing on the stars I see. The crashing seas nothing on my coughing fit cacophony. The short report and the shredded breath. These wishes a ragged hesitation, between themes of distance and existence. Between the lean ahead, and the fall below. The very thought of you, a catch in my throat.

Life is a lot of hurry up and wait. The only thing certain are the curses. The busted chops and body shots. The case resting upon brutal truths. The absence serving to emphasize the desire. The ache of want, you a world away.

Words there to pad out the punctuation. Punctuation there to weigh down the words. All I have are the days I’m trailing. All I have is the rooms I wreck. These letters I have never sent. These letters I have yet to write. You the flame and the candle. This ache all the love I owe.

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