my anemoia
I forget everything I read
it filters back as feeling
maybe I’m doing
the right thing
I don’t get nostalgic
I’m not coming back
it was bad enough once,
just embarrassing
I just miss what
I never had
with a sweetness
a sunset
I miss what
I always felt
my life should be
like I wrote it myself
there are your
pulsing questions
random stars
in the dark
I pretend to focus
sending telepathic
messages
decoded at once