groundhog day.

I’m sitting at the congregation amongst all the other versions of myself 

each bloody and bruised with stains of a few past lives 

I deny the detergent that’s said to wipe the hurt 

it’ll end up washing away the taste of sweet nothings I’m saving for the rest of that one notebook

instead, we spend too much time giving each other pieces of mind about how to get some peace of mind

we’ve been within these sage walls from when they were forest green

ox blood turned to coral before we got to the end of the 43,800 hour night