If I was any other thing,
I would be the planks of a pier by the ocean I dreamed of for the last decade,
so I could hear her sing to me as the stars stare down.
It never seems to end.
I fix my eyes on a final point
that seems to get further away every time I blink.
Don’t cry.
It’s almost over,
and we had so much fun,
didn’t we?
I’m happy,
if you want me to be.
I’ll wear a nice dress and pack away my paranoia for the weekend.
I am so random and ridiculous.
Worn out witch drowning in her dizzying disaster,
dwindling as the dawn breaks,
mullato mistress of the multiverse of misery.
My loneliness could kill me, and I’d laugh,
grateful as the lights above shimmer and shake with grief.
I’m not in any danger.
This happens all the time.
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