I was inconsolable at a kind of news that should have put me in a better mood,
the sides of my stomach were etched with flesh wounds,
These wounds were not new,
they were merely scars,
and with each passing day,
they were deeper and deeper flesh wounds,
and then they were fresh wounds
When is it that time comes along like the white knight everyone claims it to be?
When is that time heals all of this?
Tuesday mornings were always laced with an unsettling sensation,
a sapphire pool that was simmering with all our darkest fears,
a memory of when they were realized
I was inconsolable because I wanted to be,
misery was the only way to keep them close under these clear, clear skies
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