requiem

standing on the edge of the storm, waiting for the rest of my life to appear. this fixation on signposts and trail blazers leaves me counting footsteps and sniffing tracks.

she reminds me of my history. of these things so repeatitious that i forget they even exist until someone points them out. the way i crook my my hand slightly inwards drinking tea, these small cricles of despair that i dance around myself.

i could never be enough for me, or anybody else

post script

then the smoke reveals the golden lining of the clouds. and you remember that the sky is always the exact shade you need it to be. and you take it into you until it is of you. until your heart is light enough to bear.