As close to shipwrecked as I’ll ever be

I’m ok. Thanks.
I saw a bird this morning
and it looked like it was sketching sunrise
but snapping the image with my phone
made it look like silly putty art.
I move through my days in a zig-zag pattern.
I’m so close to giving myself over
to the abandon of flourishes.
I am a peninsula.
I am shipwrecked
between the waste of anger
and the exhaustion of sadness.
I keep busy and am never anyone’s focus.
I keep pouring my love on parched lips
over and over
so it’s always gone too soon.
I sort through and file memories
in an imagined card catalog
that has my own special code
that will die with me
because when it comes down to it,
nobody really wants the burden
of others’ secrets.

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