The safety of prolonged scattered showers has crumbled, bits of dry winter sunlight slipping through the cracks to expose what was always there. It’s always been wrong in the most clinical way, the kind of cut and dry, rapid blinking, hands wringing in the lap of your to think blue hospital gown wrong. We wrestled with the light switch for too long, and now the sun’s come out to prove all our forgotten drives home real, something to be prodded and tugged at around the edges until all that’s left is misinformed intentions and interwoven fingers around locks of falling hair.
We never meant the color red to leave us breathless, the color white to keep us running, the color blue to keep us hidden. We never meant for alleged heroism to keep our nails bitten and lips chapped, but in the end it was to many pieces of cardboard, too many voices so we retreated to the past and forgot our misdemeanors with a shadow of a doubt. We kept our eyes closed and ears open out of the kind of twisted fear we didn’t know what to call, and now the walls we built so haphazardly have come tumbling down.