Teeny

there’s an inexplicable glaze that becomes me. A foggy haze that sets a precedented reminder to remind me of the thoughts I shouldn’t be reminded of. I wake and I dream and I sleep and forget in this world, and the world that I seek to remember and feel becomes numb and forgotten with words that the world wouldn’t mind to forget and to burn. There’s love and there’s mixers and potions and fillers to fill up the void that was fixed without liquor, and love that I feel between spaces and gaps that I figured; would filter and litter some thoughts about love and how all is too bitter. And if love wasn’t filtered with theories and pictures I’d find easy shelter in what was once kinder. A glimmer in motion was too much fib, and chatter and laughter was thrown in the mixture. That something in motion was never once moving, to hold and accept was something not showing; while showing was something I’m told was the knowing, growing with pain truth be told i was molding. Shaping a life that i trusted could work, and labor with one was not once there to cope. And brushing and shoving it off as a future, I watch and I wait, and know what you wanted.