February, 2017.

We want the things that we say aloud in the night sweats and swirly dreams of fever burst. I wanted the moon and it was lassoed soon. Given without earned. Or was it?

“Earnt it”.

Is it just? That I pushed my car and mind and stretched irises across the stretches of highway and cold starry sunsets and clear mountain silhouettes with the window rolled down and the air whispering omens down my thin sweater neck

Robbing to pay.

Borrowing from the next day and the next day and then hey where does the dog lay?

The truest forms are rising from the hardest of cold skies and frightening shocks and knee quaking happiness.

It all melts together somehow and days keep coming and the kisses taste just as sweet and the bedsheets are loyal.

Still. Still.

Letting the good happen and swirl together with the shower steam. Wiping that shitty worry off the mirror. Mirrrrr.