So here it goes,
The struggle as an undercurrent, both get blurry by the minute both get blurrier.
So, which voice is this then that I am writing in? Is it my own or his?
Has there ever been a difference between them at all?
I don’t know, I don’t know.
I know I knocked the table over because I watched the jar break and I’ve been trying to repair it every single stupid day But won’t the cracks still show no matter how well it’s assembled can I ever just decide to let it die and let you go?
All my motives and every single narrative below reflects that moment when it broke and will I never let it go
No matter what? Now I am throwing all the shards away, discarding every fragment, and fumbling uncertain towards a curtain call that no one wants to happen, that no ones going to clap for at all, but that still has to be.