try to forget but instead you stay up all night thinking just thinking and you’re reminded by things that you shouldn’t and everything is attached and connected and maybe a sign but probably not a sign and sometimes you look through the perfume shelf at the shop and sometimes you draw lines on maps and sometimes you write letters and throw them away and sometimes you sit by the phone...
catch my breath in a gust, the metal heart, and its rust. bouquet whispers are hushed by the leaves that are crushed. there’s an autumn breeze that punctuates our days. the hurt, it leaves, but the longing stays.