It’s one of those weeks.
Where the same feeling seems to appear everywhere.
Like a fastforward.rewind.tape on repeat.
And everyone is heartbroken.



&.




I awoke to snow on sleep-deprived eyelids.
& Every song reminded me of you.
Its days like this when I’d rather hear static.
Then muffled I love you songs from a distance.




And the keyboard doesn’t cry much anymore.
As I’m lessening the will to write symphonies from faded sharpies.
Worn out strings.
And frozen meadows where I used to dream.



&.



I walked through December last night.
Boxed myself around dead roses and dissipated letters.
Had a funeral for every limb that touched your name.
In hopes to remember winter.



& why I felt so cold.




I don’t look to the skies anymore, you know.
When all I see is dust.
The stars can’t look me in the eyes.
When all they see is shredded faith.




& To everyone I’m ok.
I’m ok.
Writing letters on frozen grass and burned out daffodils.
Tracing the outlines of the gardens with crumbled pebbles.
Trying to find something solid.




Just so December doesn’t look so fucking hopeless.




I’m making indentations in wooden fences.
Writing you notes in the cracks.
And maybe you’ll find me between it all one day.
With frozen roses trapped inside cold hands.
















I’d hope you ask why I waited.













& I hope you know I never did.































Never. Will.

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