can't put my arms around a memory,
much more than I can kiss a curse.
and so I begin my morning
in revelry, because we are only
as sick as our secrets.
this is a good place
for tea and writing;
this is a good place
for hiding.
the winters are brutal,
and I'd only go out
for cigarettes and comedy.
love wasn't a necessity
in 2019, but love tends
to punch you in the face
right when you are about take
a first bite of food.
maybe if I was proud,
I could've...nah, nevermind.
there are places
I will always go,
and back in time
is one of them.