this love of ours is a cluster at the base of my skullMature

i am tired of packed bags, of stairwells, of airports, of check-ins and check-outs.
i am tired of this constant process, this re-write, this update, upgrade, upstage.
i want to trigger the collapse of all these dominos we’ve been carefully lining up.
i want to drop this burning cigarette into this puddle of gasoline leading to everything we’ve collected all this time.
we’ve been sharing this hollow organ in this ribcage for far too long.

The End

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