Big One (11/13)
There's that lie that is told about how much you miss how it was.
It's actually a missing of how you felt.
How eyes can only rest on something once.
There's the lie of snow on windows at Christmas at Thanksgiving.
The family sitting around a fire or television.
It's the missing of a holiday without cancer without coughing without illness.
That's the Big One, the one told constantly.
That it used to be better that it was ever something else.
It never was, it was just everyone's last time.
Post a Comment