Sad Labels:
clarity
,
retrospect
It was a new year and an old one. For all the teabags we'd left to steep in insomnia's thankless hug. He made the usual small talk. Words ticking like bombs. We'd never be those strangers again. Never tremble that way in the precision of the countdown.
He heard my cry at last. Pigeon droppings landing on my eyelids. He saw the woman. Witnessed the child. Who sees in the snowball the avalanche.
Playing with the English in his grip. Learning the gauze to conform.
It was a new year and an old one.
In every way.
I hope your new year with all its truth stay well
New Year without the Happy - that's gonna happen sometimes isn't it? But not all the time - hence the capacity for frames of reference - so for Auld Lang Syne m' dear...
de.vile: good tidings to you as well.
ruk: ah yes, must have the bad to know what is good and vice versa.
enjoy your new years guys.
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