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…
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