The moon set in the sky like a gemstone
in the most beautiful promise ring.
But I have heard “forever”
On the lips of impermanence.
Nothing is still.
All is moving.
Well fuck…we are really turning.
I wish I was one of those girls who wanted the white picket fence and the family van. Things would sure be a lot simpler. Instead, I’m left like an unopened puzzle-box; edge pieces scattered throughout the pile, waiting to be tried and tossed away after being unfit for 1500 other pieces. I wouldn’t blame you if you gave up on putting me together once and for all.