Every day is a blur of the one before
and the one before that
and the one happening now.
I am changing the date on my journal
to keep track. For a while there,
I felt darkness around the
days of the week and months.
I feel this abyss will never end.
I don’t know what will save me from
the days. Nothing really. My coffee is warm.
The longer I stare out my window
at my lilac tree, the colder it gets.
You wake up and want my attention
you make me coffee. You know how
I get weak when you speak my
language of love. It’s still a cloud
in my heart. It could be grey one
day, blue another, white, moving
silently and then you crack the mirror.
I’m out of my skin, I’m shedding
a new layer of your anger.
so I have to drag myself out of the earth
and walk on planks.
You want me
to love you and I do. In the way
I should not. I know better by now
but the clouds never leave, they hover
and expect me to be my best self.
I’m writing and spinning out of control
over hatred, you’re making me tired.
Let’s stay naked in bed
create our own clouds
dissipate the anger with our skin.
Even fantasy has holes
we refuse to mend.