Up to the point- that I give up crying- put on lipstick- go out for breakfast- but have no breakfast-
sit in a corner- next to the window- sketch the Christmas hanging- on the window pane- silent immobile- walk back home- and look at them
The joy
of
realising- that I am not
moving on-
so that
the mountain
will have to
then
The mountain will have to- move its fat ass- walk heavy slow rhythmic thuds towards the cliff- with one last huge sigh of disappointment will have to jump into the sea- teal splashing all over the place- seaweed and sea creatures subdue it
Up to that point- I’m done with this life without you in it- and stubbornly refuse to move on
So the mountain will have to
So the mountain will have to
So the mountain will have to
Nine Lives 