the kind of girl who goes to the bathroom for a breather

there’s some very

precious

part of me that sticks

it sticks and stays.

some girls

learn to love

and others learn to

be

but i learn bathrooms.

bathrooms as lockets

of heaven

and bathrooms as breathtakers

and bathrooms as …

bathrooms i suppose.

i could go back into the past,

to every moment

caught between my teeth,

but i’d be there alone.

august is 5pm or 2am.

sometimes 7 pm also.

i’m alone in my memories,

and when i trek back

i find patterns and sequences

and i realise there’s some merit in reliving

heartbreak.

no one remembers like i do,

god, i go back and i’m all alone.

and i come

back to the present

and i’m still alone

but with my own company now.

i feel the weight of dreams i never stopped searching

for.  i’ll

always be a bit

of the same. i’ll

always be a lot of the same.

i’m okay with that.

it’s endearing isn’t it?

i keep changing

but energy is

never created or destroyed.

i’m just like i’ve always been.

just love just waiting to love.