the middle of may


I’m not sorry anymore.

I acknowledged my persistent need for repugnant struggles; the heaviest air of manipulative strife…reasons to doubt me.

I realized the treacherous expedition my heart asked for; the longest of walks/ stones and sticks/ nights of goodbyes.

But my fears — sights of sun, realized the brim, over-fell into your streams; my blue&rain-soaked sea. life on top. misdirected floating.

how there was so much. the highest lows. bottoms on top. the darkest space.

but not enough room.

for simple love.

so i’m not sorry anymore.

for my boundless gift of wanting forever. cause it was all i had.

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