the problem of beating
i cried all the way over the bridge it wasn’t exactly that you snapped or the long string of her angry texts or the emails i had hoped to get it wasn’t any of that exactly it might have been the way the light gets caught in the wildfire smoke and i’m down here starving for brightness or something about the way we let intent be obscured by the daily miscommunications and before you hung up the phone all i wanted to say was i love you in between the beat down of the work day and the things i maybe should have done between the questions and the long silence i love you it’s ok to cry it means this broke heart still wrestles with the problem of beating it means i still stare through the thick like a star might break it it means after all the issues and every problematic potential and after misuse and abuse and after the goddamn parking meter didn’t take my quarters i love you/her/myself and nothing can block that out
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