A Reasonable Doubt.

Dawn:
  • I’ve been washing my favourite T-shirt in the kitchen sink, with soap meant to clean dirty vessels. It will not take ink-stains off of these cotton threads.
  • I’ve been trying to tie my eye-lashes into braids, and hook the ends of those braids on to loops made out of loose strands of hair falling on my face. Only, I’ve been trying with fingers too big and amidst breaths that are not still.
Midnight:
  • I’ve been trying to make sense of my breaking dreams from dawn, but only before I go to bed that night. They don’t occur to me all day after I leave them with my pillow each morning.
Some time in between:

None of it makes sense to me.

So, tell me -

how did I ever expect,

to make sense out of -

the reality, the disaster, the memory

of

you and I?

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