plenty to learn and rewrite, but i will have lost the thread that motivated me to feel in the first place, it never lingers. unless the thoughts tripped over some others on their way out

-------i find it more comforting to write poetry at night, without red squiggles, giving it 12 hours before i pretend to regret it because im not as emotional after i wake up and when i read it back to myself and subsequently connect to it less i feel like i made mistakes in my expression

i brought the water, the wine
the patience, the time.
ive yet to thank me, for all of me is mine.
i dont feel it fair yet to shine.
to share, to shed, to fear, to whine.
but i might never
again and thats fine...
i got to
once, then twice
...that was nice
i was mine