The Stories We Tell Ourselves, In Order {To Stay}

Love bites,
love bleeds.
– Def Leppard


We say
we might flee. That these
bleak skies are too much.
That we might touch peace
again if only we leave.

We say
we might be better apart.
That the stilted start and
unquiet center are signs;
that no one rewinds.

We say
we might see the ocean,
might touch the sand and
feel the surf change us,
rearrange us.

We play
games of paper, scissors,
rock of ages on tiny stages
for our own sanity,
our vanity.

We slay
dragons. Visions. Songs.
Belong only to the sea. Wish
for new veins, warm days,
brighter teeth.
Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 28

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