moon

begging my brain to let you go and latch on to someone or something else, really this is ridiculous, clogging my own drains. Sick sticking memory of you and your old growth smell and your dance around yourself, this memory i color myself with, that i drape all over. in the dirty remains a single close-up of face and hands and their route, and i wonder if in a future-something i’ll still have that memory, buried in my unnamed insides to unearth whenever hormones and weather and a single fingernail of overhanging moon bring my selves just aligned.

2 thoughts on “moon

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.