It’s the difficulty of telling the truth

It’s every bone in your body telling you to run,

Then freezing when you try.

It’s love

That can’t be returned,

But seems so beautiful

Because it means you’re not

(I’m not)

As broken as you thought.

It’s looking at the train tracks longingly,

But waiting

And getting on

And going to work.

And work seems like an affirmation.

Church bells that have damned you

Still sound like hallelujah.

They can take salvation,

But they can’t steal the beauty of the sound

From anyone.

Finding the thrill in a tiny apartment,

Building a shield out of patterns

Trying to tear us down.

We’ll survive this.

We’ll look back and laugh

At our starry eyes,

Our blurry photographs

That we thought were artistic

At drunken poems written on blogs

That no one ever read.

What now seems overwhelming

Will look precious,

Like a tiger from a great distance.

We’ll forget the teeth,

And only remember the brilliant colors.


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