I
Like to
Think, it's permanently
Gone.

Suddenly around the bend,  
Darkness
Doth
Decend.

So alone
In the vacuum of space,
If I dissappear,
Would there be
A
Trace?

On this cold summer morning, I pull my extra cover over my hairless aging legs. The moon seems to be going through some strange end times faze.
I enjoy my coffee and dare to watch the dreadful world news, nothing seems to changes, we’re still being lied to.
Hidden bigotry in plain sight,
manufacturing a reason to strike.
When will the cold morning fade
into the restful sleep of yesterday’s
……….

for as long as i can remember,
i’ve been chasing perfect,
tight-laced, gold-star, quiet ache.
and for a while,
i think i caught it.

but i’m not perfect anymore.
i flinch too easy,
snap too fast,
leave texts unread,
pick at scabs that should’ve healed.

people still call me smart, kind, strong,
and i don’t correct them.
it’s easier to wear the mask
than explain the mess underneath.

i disappoint myself
in small, sharp ways,
forgetting, avoiding, breaking down.
i say “i’m fine”
because it’s faster
than confessing i’m not.

expectations stick like static,
even when no one says them out loud.
and i still feel guilty
for letting people love
someone i no longer recognize.

If stars charm the night ,
the moon a bright guiding light,
our love must be right.