last time i checked, january was barely in its first week of infancy.
but. now, having been caught unaware of how quick the ghost passes, i am once again stuck with the same bitter taste of last year.
i thought it'd be easy, and it has. in sleep, an unseen kit plops open and begins untangling the countless layers of rusted barb.
maybe i needed the scar tissue, it has a purpose.
like a cocoon, something beautiful will eventually spring out.
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