old grey scarves,
headaches melting away
for good people
avenging time.
wet notebooks,
hearts that text
sadness on
certain mornings.
top of lungs,
she is better
off without me
pissing her off.
never felt magic,
never saw maroon
in the ocean
aside from lice.
now again,
brighter than
my western regret
of time zones.
been a long
time that I was
wondering whether
love feels weathered.