18:09
date: 2013-09-23 
time: 18:09:00
time: 18:09:00if writing about it made any
difference, i'd keep going.
but lately it's just too many words, but
not enough to make sense anymore.
it's never been enough, why would that
change now?
i told you once that i first started
writing, when i realized someone
deserved my words. and you said, as if
you were surprised i didn't
know, "people don't deserve words,
they deserve writers"
so i kept going.
but sometimes
i don't think you deserve the novels i've
been writing about you. sometimes it's
too much to read through every line and
know it's always been yours.
but i kept going.
so i wrote about another you, another
ocean, another anchor. i wrote about
different waves. i wrote about people
who weren't so far away.
and i've never felt so out of place, like i
didn't belong. thrashing against the
currents. as though even my words
were outcasts. thinking about it now
makes me miss you even more.
you told me once that sometimes the
roots are there, there's just not enough
water. and i wonder how that's possible
when i've been drowning ever since.
(a.k.)
poetry /
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