Daze

Count these losses, like they mean everything.

For when they shoot through the air like heated gases in the make-up of a star,

they magnify the beauty of every particle, in a perfect mixture and concentration of the air,

through their humble deformity,

in which we learn to inhale all things beautiful, exhaling fatigue, pain, defeat.

like they mean everything, as though the dazes through which they travel,

and all the in betweens, carry with them the tiniest modicum of significance.

thereby forming an ever lengthened chain of the in's and out's one takes on,

like a journey,

a flashback.

indecision, blurry sights, heightened daydreams

like the heart takes, and breaks, and meticulously counts,

these,

losses,

as though they would vanish when repelled

when they don't.

because they don't.

not since i've seen the light,

in you.