lull

there’s fog along the highway / and the lights carry me home / and it’s raining in august / warm on my skin, clay bones / so why don’t you hold me / why don’t you tell me you miss me too / cause no one’s ever told me that before / and god knows, i miss you / and there’s lights up in the sky / there’s a monster in my home / he lives under the bed / eats dust bunnies for lunch, and cries all night long / ’cause he misses how he used to be / all the little moth-holes gnawed into his memory / he is lonely and scared, and there’s a pit in his gut every time they ask what he’s gonna do / a thousand platitudes to kiss him off to sleep / you know how it goes / you know how you postpone, and make yourself those empty promises / you’ll forget about next morning / when you wake up exhausted / listen to ads on spotify as you root through rotten drawers in your mind / searching for something new / but all you’ll find is worn our t-shirts from 2017 / day-old tea / and dust settled on the pages / you swore you’d make anew

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