Today we’re at the end :^(. Pretty sad for this year to be over, but pleased I’ve tried a new form (Haibun) for the last day
Darling, give in. No matter how we look at this it will always be a battered pigs ear, the drum of it humming, the sole freckle lonely and missing the lip to own it. Nothing is intact, least of all what I have to say. We know the seasons. Wore the carpet thin with them like track marks, except we do not brake into the skid. We speed up; sliding to revive the collision over and over. I can’t imagine this any other way. How many moons have passed. How many new stars birthed in apathy. Still the skin remains untouched. Still the morning blooms malnourished and wary, ever silver in its watered light. There are two types of distance and we dabble in both. Stranger/Lover. Inside you something beats as it does in me but even for this we cannot branch out of repetition, even for the weakness of sex that longs to be sung to. There are no happy breaths. There are no midnight endings pulsed in the pocket of each other. Nothing to get swollen about at all.
this is the nature of things
we must not forget.
Picture credit: From Fear Eats the Soul