fears swirl

like snowflakes, without the variety

i know i’ve seen these before

frothy white waves of pain batter me,

salty with stinging questions

stop asking me



how. could. you.


je ne sais pas

my glass half-full

now empty to the sunniest eye

drained slowly by gravitational questions pulling

that liquid hope through a small hole

of discouragement

where the glassy bottom touches solid table reality

evaporating like my tears in the ocean of everyone else’s problems

only to be found in

the moists of cloudly mercy

in between the cumulonimbus and stratus fluffs

of gold-refining storms

Lord, bottle my tears

i’m thirsty


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