can we be happy?

the ideal’s fading.

i painted time into my arms
and skipped a new path into the sun
dragging my sneakers behind me
like a kid 
kicking pebbles into the wind.

snow days are coming again,
did you know? and in their wake
a hurricane of leaves
gold and red
to descend.

ahh. happy days, indeed.
the traces of you
leaving me
leaving we

i wanted to trace the edges of love
into faded post cards ravaged by time
tucked into corners of perplexity
because fairytales dictate Hollywood lies
and aren’t we all just suckers for the law?

but ideals are fading
with the intensity of youth slipping by,
awkward fumbles in the dark
as skin relinquishes it’s hold on dreams
and we ran out of animosity

because distance equals romance of the mind.

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