My horoscope tells me to avoid being discouraged by endings, that I can grow if I stay in my lane, and I feel seen by the cosmos today.
By Kay Husnickabout a year ago in Poets
Did you wake up and regret your words again? Take a moment to think it out, decide you overreacted, blew your top, as you admit you have before?
Make me out to be something I'm not, a clone to live in your head with malicious intent. Shape her around assumptions and lies, the kind I've never told,
You became a story I tell, a distant memory I pull out on occasion, a footnote in the grand scheme of things, and I do not remember now when the switch flipped off,
My horoscope says to count the petals on a flower, to recount the old saying, play the old game they love me, they love me not.
I owe you an apology, one I can't directly give because I moved too fast when I knew better, I offered a love I could not maintain,
The Book of Spells says to light two brown candles on a Thursday, that four lines and a long list of ingredients lead to victory.
I thought of you in July passing the food carts we went to after a day at the museum, made a note on my phone on the 20th at 12:10 p.m.
You can't cross Route 62 at Bedford anymore, and they repaved Francis, the tucked away, little dead end. The old train by the Lube was taken away a few years ago;
If you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, for me to be vindictive, get revenge, to come after you and what I'm owed,
The other day, I sat down and wrote you a letter. I told you everything I will never say, all the things I know if I really know you.
I'm making myself sick again swallowing my emotions and burying my appetite whatever it takes to digest the situation. I'm taking your words to heart this time;
