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Spaghetti knots

i am telling you no

but i loved you

though i suppose

cracking in between

there are

always buts

*

we are the ghosts

of those who

left remains buried

*

can’t i even feel right

for i am unable to describe what

it is to be

but not too

 

can’t i even feel right

without worrying that repetition dulls

though this is different

 

can’t i even feel right

even as all of it has already been described

in books i’ll never read

and in songs i no longer listen to

and i will be alone

despite all who are were lingering

to define

the same

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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