our dying earth.
her lungs overflowing with toxic smoke
her arteries blocked by the plaque of plastics
she miraculously races another ultramarathon
around the everlasting sun.
another piece of the 24 wasted away.
moments spent waiting by the phone
pulling out what’s left of sparse, paper thin hair.
ticking of the clock.
absence of breath with the missing beats of the circulatory drum.
the ignorance of commencements
the penitence of completions
for the difference of year-
broken hearts mending themselves,
only to be broken once again.
from the coronavirus to the loss of loved ones, the holidays aren’t going to be the same this year. although this piece has a negative sort of ending, i want everyone to know that even though they aren’t going to look the same the holidays can still be a great time. remember to stay safe and stay home in these uncertain times. :)