so many

I still make up
these little stories sometimes
about a vague protagonist
followed by an unreliable narrator
stories full of the things
that help me fall asleep
quietly traveling
through places I’ve tried to forget

there’s never an ending
but I can give you
so many beginnings


how can I explain?

disfigure themselves
day by day
become warped
bent and broken
collapsing and imploding

it’s nice to meet you
I’m just not sure where to start
and there’s so little time
to spare on the past


you paused for a moment
looking to see how far you’d come
but the trail-markers turn to ash as you approach
and the ash follows the wind

your world is unfamiliar to you
every spring
and every fall
a quiet echo chamber

you’ve given up on solid ground
it never got you anywhere

at the will of chaos
you will move forward

hearth in you

you tell me I am a heater
as we lay
melting into one another
but your warmth is overwhelming

I’ve been staring at the light
becoming brighter on the inside
of sheer black curtains
I’m usually so
but today I hope the sun
chooses to sleep a bit longer
so you can too