its 6:30 in the morning and I am still alone
Thinking of anchors tied to my eyelids,
forcing them to stay.
trying to hide the brass knuckles i find strapped to my hands
when i wake up.
Readying myself for another night of bruised thoughts
Maybe this is too long to think about the same things,
but maybe it wasn’t just you,
but all the other things.
Maybe you really were just the palisade
to my flood.
Maybe your structure held back enough.
just enough for me.
but I still received that tiny trickle.
a trickle is enough to erode any foundation,
even if that foundation was just some
stupid fucking band that I can’t listen to anymore,
It still mattered.