It begins and ends with you,
My dear,
You’re my lover and my muse,
And I fear that it will
Always be that way.
Always.
Especially when everything
Else is so impossible to
Differentiate. Especially
When life is nothing but
Coffee stains and thirty-
Second advertisements that
Can’t be skipped soon enough.
When it’s nothing but the
Same
Same
Same mundane shit as always.
That’s why it comes back to you.
That’s why it has to,
My dear,
Because you’re my still my muse,
Even if we haven’t been lovers
Since that time when it all
Got confused.
I’m still confused.
And so for now it’s all
Ringing alarm clocks and
Making appointments and
Trying to figure out
Which two pairs of socks
Actually match when I’m
Folding laundry in the
Basement where we
Fucked that one time
After we got drunk at the
Pizza place you really like.
See?
Do you see?
In the end it always seems
To come back around, just
Like you did after I broke
Your heart the first time,
And like I did after you
Broke mine.
It started with you,
My dear,
My muse,
Before we really knew ourselves,
And now it will end with you,
My dear,
My muse,
Because we don’t know anything else.
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