bunz

maybe i forgot about how to love. or maybe i forgot about how to care. or maybe it was a moment that i spent alone and didn’t feel that way. like the other one, my completer, was me.  sometimes the ones that are new to english are better at it. sometimes the ones that are off the deep end are better swimmers. you can’t be on point all of the time, or you’ll end up bleeding, you’ll end up drained. i used to dream about beat poetry. i used to imagine myself free. from my own fear, my own judgments, my hang ups. i worked with my hands, i slept with the sun. but you forget. you forget the spark. you forget the fire. or you burn. you smolder. maybe it turns you on to be at the end of your abilities. maybe you’re extreme in a way that i’ll never really want to be. but i’m so full up with maybes that again, i’ve forgotten the spark. and i’m staring at the screen wondering how i can be more like somebody who knows what they want. rather than somebody looking for it. while i’ve forgotten what it is.

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