Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
paradox
portions of the constant. little fingers in the shadows. knot the sun. turn the light into puzzles we don't know how to solve.
it's always there.
when it's gone. we hardly notice.
we die quickly. drowning in our shallow puddles. suffocating in our empty closets.
leveraging each epiphany. like gold covered shit.
it's always ours. until it's not. and we go on. pretending. eventually it will be.
it's always there. until isn't.
voices crumble. a sudden castration of grief. skin breaks. a perfect execution of fragility.
stubborn ghosts sewing pockets into their sheets. to carry all the things they've lost.
it's always there.
when it's gone. we hardly notice.
we die quickly. drowning in our shallow puddles. suffocating in our empty closets.
leveraging each epiphany. like gold covered shit.
it's always ours. until it's not. and we go on. pretending. eventually it will be.
it's always there. until isn't.
voices crumble. a sudden castration of grief. skin breaks. a perfect execution of fragility.
stubborn ghosts sewing pockets into their sheets. to carry all the things they've lost.
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