Don’t ask me to plan ahead.
I cannot promise myself for
a single month. Do not
break your own heart when my
whole history book of stories
warns you right: I will leave. I will leave you.
I clean my windows quite well
so birds keep believing they
will pass so easily through. They cannot and they break themselves.
I am barely an exception to my own rule
of timed abandonment. On occasion, I’ve left without
No one has the option to follow.