staring at a skyfull of stars
with a mouthful of sighs, i ask :
what a year has it been—
no, like, literally, what has it been—
because i have no fucking idea.
i spent half of it waiting
and the other half trying
to make up for having waited.
spent half of it wanting
to be loved and when loved
wanting to be left alone
so i could want again, instead of have.
one must imagine the new year happy
but i am not one, i'm many
so i'll let the year grow on me
like grass grows over unminded graves.
~ ajay
1/1/2023
YOU ARE READING
ways of slowly dying ~ poetry
Poetry"life is slow dying. so are their separate ways of building, benediction, measuring love and money ways of slowly dying." ~ philip larkin
