Elements of time and the theater of a year dissected.
I drift through your sunlight hoping to be warm again
I can not bring back what once was.
I can not make you want to.
Only the vile dismantle hope into want.
Small victories consecrated in blood.
We hold them like refuse in the morning.
Words felt by touch but never penned on blank pages.
Particles of self drift, longing to be whole.
White light illuminates but does not see.
I can only want and settle like dust.
Defeated particles to gather on a window sill.
Once wiped away, so easily forgotten.
A shuddering scream into the void.
To become clean.
So wretchedly clean.
