she spins webs and worlds:
one to catch me,
one to keep me away.
calving into the sea,
I will bleed my way
north to her October fortress.
solitude with a splash of togetherness,
battling each additional syllable,
with sharp laughter and cosmic hope, hopefully.
if not, it will be one of many ends,
which we have begun again and again,
much to the chagrin of fate.
there is no such thing as forever,
everything considered, there is no such thing as now,
oblige to exist in the strong middle with cats and pianos.