Before all else, nothing was coincidental. Each avian felt a deep, reflexive understanding of their place like guests at a numbered party table. Seventy-one of them, Eleanor counted in gleeful shock. She had almost forgotten the age she was turning. Seventy-one, she recited in her head. She clung to the number like a beloved memento.
I can be a nice blue sky,
Waking from a dream in twilight.
It baffles me how easy it is to forget the real reasons we live.
What’s your reason for doing what you are right now?
I’ve traded my treats for the hilltop bungalow,
“Coated in amber, bleeding mauve through the cracks
Of a broken glass sunset.”
“The look on two people’s faces, closely conjoined
One shows the other something they love,
You can tell it in the wrinkles of their smile and the high in their eyes.
The other person- disjointed. Façades of pleasure coat themselves in a silicone mask
To feign the feelings the other has, naturally coursing through them.”
When I look in the crystalline shards of a morning’s reflection, I’m seeing more and more of the reflection you’ve … More
“But I’ll always love myself,
So I keep writing and forgetting,
Marking my memories in these sullen elegies,
So I don’t have to hold on.”