The Neglected Exclamation Point

Anecdotes on etcetera and ennui. Virtue marketed as frailty. The frozen pond looks back questioning my stare. A smile built of a million fissures. Bending the fingers all the way back on the empty glove.

The occasional romantic. The often heart. Drawing itself in the mud. Only when it's raining. Nine-hundred maybe's later I finally got a no from him. Drank the mortar in one gulp. And waited.

Not very long.

For the bricks to set.

In the stubble the darkness draws on these hands. As the shadows wince. In the spasm of every sock as the shoe comes off. In every purl the silence knits. This seizure of expressing myself cripples me more.

I can't scream any louder.