• my past rides by on a broken bike i used to own, circling me again and again until it crashes, finally, into me. am i what i used to be piled up and up until there is no way to take out parts of the tower without knocking down the whole structure? "you" is probably the best answer to a secretly gut-wrenching question, but not the answer to the aforementioned query. i remember when i raged and bellowed at my ex-lover and his mother turned up the sound of the slow, jazzy music coming from the movie downstairs. he quietly stood up and pulled me up to dance because he knew how much i would love that. there was peace briefly, but just long enough, for me to appreciate, but not love, him. his green eyes pored into mine and his eyelashes were soft, but i could not resign myself to such a perfect future. soon, like the song, his bright eyes turned red. and now i research angels and forget about god.

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