our stories are simple

I think our stories are really very simple

Some doses of pain

Antidotes we yet know no existence of

Night skies and sunsets

The leavings and 5 p.m. laughs

An always empty box of chocolate chip cookies

And worlds away home

Deleted chats because in reality we have no memories

And wounds we keep covered even in fifty one degrees

Blurred wars

some poisonous, ghostly garden thorns

Haunted Fridays

With some good sprinkle of un-named tiredness

And someone to miss.

Always more to miss.