the little buttons lose their edges over time.
until there's no closing those openings ever again.long roads impel us to chase them. muted by a distance that chokes.
the search is imperative. anything we might find already spent.
we shuffle the colors. until everything is grey.
tugging on the zippers that keep these faces where we want them.
arrogantly daring everything to change.
tomorrow slips out of its fancy dress.
a trembling virgin violated under the guise expectation.
we remain at the party. playing its nefarious games.
throwing our stones at the ceiling.
shocked when the roof collapses.
Filed under: January 2025 Sad Poetry
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