#wassup fazgang
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It’s easy. It’s easier than anything to fall back into those old, tired, memorized steps. A stolen ‘my dear’, too quick to respond, stolen hours, back and forth bantering, stolen heartbeats, with each ring of laughter. We know that rhythm. We know what the song spells. We’ll dance, tip-toe and sway around the verses but we know we can’t avoid it. The same coming, recurring chorus of distance replays, and we know those steps better than anything. We know the words better than anything. “I don’t know you enough” as I sway your arm. “I don’t know you enough” as you spin me right around. Stealing breaths, stealing steps, stealing dances. Stolen right beneath the golden haze of those streaks in your eyes.
Old, tired melody. But easier than sincerity.
#al writing#prose poetry#wassup fazgang#back on my white boy poetry grind#I promise I write about other shit#this is a vent rly I didn’t pay much attention to whatever tf is happening#vent turned poetry is actually so therapeutic !#like wow why does my brain think in metaphors that’s so cool#never dim down your intellectual freak#I dramatize the situation a bit here its rly not that serious LOL#i threw this up on my notes app and didnt even reread so like please don’t scrutinize it too far#if i ever touch it again i have some ideas on what to work on
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