(i)

i am the last bloom to push out of the soil too late to ever open like the flowers around me

the pistachio unsplit

the scuff on your new shoes

i spit in the eye of both god and the devil for doing fuck all but watching everything sink

i tell the truth even when it hurts me because i have spent long enough saying it is okay

it isn’t and i am not

i am tired but never seem to get enough sleep

when i do i dream of you

then lie there staring at the ceiling hating myself for waking

i could go for a cup of coffee and as we spend the day writing in silence

i want more than this world seems prepared to give but i don’t fucking care

i will take it

try and stop me

i won’t quit until one of us is dead

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