Making a Cup Noodle

I haven’t talked about Her

And tonight the black ice just crept up

the flooding, felt like I was sliding across forward

the white walls burst up around me, what I asked to see

I don’t see with Her.

This is out of school

and out of wedlock

I would hold my breath until death waiting for someone else to motivate me

waiting for abstract motivation

waiting for what I thought was creative omen

I don’t believe in omens

boiling water on my wedded finger, over my life, my heart

what it was, believing in preservation

preserving him

preserving her, Her

ugh, preservation

trying to keep everything the same

no, it wasn’t preservation

it was keeping us alive

keeping us together and changing

how we saw and see

I see it as I slide

I swear to god that clock ticks louder sometimes