intersection

everything in the air. a little much all at once after too long hiding from the sun. I smile at the stranger waiting at the lights and the moment makes a monument. something about sliding doors and timing and for what? there’s a punchline I’m missing and it’s all a little late. but we can queue whatever songs we want and dance in the green and the pink through another night of breathing somewhere else.

tears make a pool of my bedroom floor stripping the walls of postcards never written back. tend to tasks to hide behind the thought of where I should be going. forget to check the news and wake from dreams of days I’ll never spend.