have you ever woken up one day and the thing you loved the most just didn’t taste the same?
twenty seven years later.
and all quite spectacularly due to the terrifying fact that i think it is because I love you.
And Poetry is no exception
“when so many are lonely… it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone.”
Perhaps you have convinced everyone else, but are yet to convince yourself.
How especially sacred
feeling slightly better
“I wrote this a while ago… and the truth is we are nearly at 24.”
There was no moon.