you, me, and everyone we know

may there never be one thing
quite like how this day feels on the outside
may i never nearly forget
how my emotions rust, breathing in dust
and how every single sunset seems red


=====

I hate mornings,
a cliché trend to be sure, but why not?
But it's not really morning
so I hate mid-mornings, and pre-noons,
and possibly noons, afternoons, and evenings.
(I'll have to tell you when I get there.)

But that's not really what I wanted to write about.
I wanted to write about beauty and trivialities,
and sadness.
In words that would make you weak,
Read with a sigh and a sinking heart.

But that's not really what I wanted to write about.

Things are odd when you're not thinking.
It's funny how, when your mind's working.
It's nearly impossible to say anything at all.
The words drag their feet
clawing at your throat, but only in the wrong direction.
In desperation you'll force yourself to choke them out
But then they're all mixed up, and you forgot what you wanted to say anyway.
And it couldn't of mattered if you couldn't say it in the first place.