a fish flies
through the night air
hardly remembering
he was not born
a bird

a word swims
through the ocean
almost remembering
its destination

a grim old man
feels his heart turn soft
and decides to go
with it for once

The twang of anxiety
and rattle of adrenaline
is hard to dispel
sat facing a laptop
at a kitchen table,
making all video calls
seem like I’m an addict
jonesing for my next fix.
I got the Teams twitch.

Let's tell our secrets to the moon:

We can talk about whatever is on your mind

I'll wonder deeply through your glances

======================================

On cold nights,

I'll drink warm milk

On cold nights,

I'll be thinking about you

On cold nights,

I'll need you.

i killed myself in winter
it was 37 below zero
and my mind was as numb as my toes
i didn't think it could get any colder
i was wrong.

Love is not dependency.
Love is not some broken-hearted teen crying,
"You were the only thing that ever completed me,"
in the middle of the street during a full moon in which all the willows weep or whatever.

Whatever love is, it's surely not that.

Love is not a scam.

Love is not crying when you could've laughed.

In fact, love is the exact opposite of that.

The first five days:
a whirlwind of old friends in new surroundings,
indulging in old habits with the occasional mumblings of,
"I'm proud of you man,
this is nice."

On day six, back in the stix.
Kicking it with the fams up to their same old tricks.

It's hard to say where my heart is.
I've always suffered from being adventurer-sick.

All I know is that the planets have finally aligned in such a way as
to allow me to walk down the streets I grew up on in the way that I haven't done in such a long time,
the way in which I learned all their names.
The way I grew up attempting to escape their grasp.

Now here I am, for the first time in years,
rehashing the past
and its dreams,
and its tears.

Use context clues.

Despite all the shade I throw at my family,
truth is,
they're alright.