Rovva

Was love my mistake?
What would I understand of it?
Sacrifice and guilt,
It's all a valve of disorienting clammer in the heart of the youth
and it does clammer my heart so.

On November 25th, 2013, I woke up to morning rain.
It was maybe a good forty degrees, something like that,
and I wasn't ready for the day at all. It was a Monday.
God, I still hate Mondays. They're an enemy to us all.

Wake up.
Let her go.
Eat cereal.
Let her go.
Pull on pants.
Let her go.
Brush teeth.
Let her go.
Breathe in.
Let her go.
Breathe out.
Let her go.
It's time,
just let her go.

I remember my last good dream.
My nights are torn by nightmares
that fuel the pain
I've kept a secret
and I know they're here to stay,
but if I could have just this dream,
this blissful breath,
this warm teacup.

The sky is made of molasses.
The fear spread like fire.
They came in enormous masses,
buzzing together in a choir.
Their eyes are white and glowing.
Their bodies are like shadows
and they move without you knowing.

They’re going to tear it down,
the old barn in our backyard,
because it’s too old
and it’s falling apart.
They’re not entirely wrong,
it is falling apart
and it is old,
but it never lost its beauty.