All the Threes

Sometimes, sometimes.

I’m still not processing the still loss.

The breakdown of things broken down,

Forgetfulness in the face of horrible times,

Leave behind, leave behind, leave behind.

There’s the one that won’t go on.

There’s the interruption of what we should’ve done.

There’s hindsight owning your ass.

We spot it up again and again.

Sometimes it’s a drain and other times there’s a garbage disposal.

Here’s what you were aiming for, only flayed, thank you very much.

Drift is real.

A hole in the ground is real.

What I mean to say, is I miss you.