Alone

yellow dolls. more fracture than crutch. we heal the same as we live. fumbling with the things that hurt us. hopelessly trying to manipulate our wounds.

small knives picking at the freshest of our scabs.

the deep water seldom moves. everything happens on the surface. where we touch. where we feel. where we are broken.

the soft hull of the darkness readily shedding our expectations. a disease to be cured. a fractured stick figure.  limp against the remains of an impotent flood.

too many colors. like empty gloves missing their fists. too many clocks. keeping track of the time that's forgetting us.

i've never mastered the angles, but i still remember the math. the suffocation of the slope. the temptation of the stab. how rich the fresh cut. how nervous the bandage.

it wasn't a choice. it just happened. a thunderstorm easily devouring the sun. it pretends to leave. though it never does. bruises too deeply embedded.