Day before the next day starts another month..
I say it so nonchalantly but the truth unseals lies in all its harsh glory
The same day since the month before sighing and apprehending reality
Of lost moments and meaningful phrases that never whisper I’m sorry
Coping is merely reading the same words of the same novel that never serve in a published story
Movement we wave the streets performing the function and pure definition of steady

Day before the next day starts another feeling into the existence of
… being..

Lying steady and still lingering the smell of flowers staining the exhales of the sheets curled up in the bed
Mass genocide of fear looking for bullets to load in the gun to cause the most possible bloodshed
Blood red, my heart still beating openly hoping you don’t break me on the bedspread
Trying to not let time and reality force me to say my heart was in some way mislead..

My heart lingers on every word you ever said
Impacting all the little breaths I stutter that your words already died before it bred
Misread
Unsaid

Every moment portrays music
We unknowingly scribe subconsciously working together to intimately grasp each lyric
Language of bodies and hearts attached make..

Magic.