this is a tenacious morning, sticky with wetness like the words that slid out of their mouths last night
five point five is what they noted in their grandfather clocks and iPhone calendars
but numbers don’t matter in this life,
not by a long shot
togetherness is not togetherness until you are apart, and the ocean of what it meant to be close hits you. you’re soaked and you’re awake now, awake after all of the tendrils of tenderness have wilted away, and you’re harsh now. the colors have changed now, grey, slate grey.
the blue awaits.