I don't know;;;;

what
do
I want +

Taking you by the hand with the most excited look of anticipation, let me tell you let me tell you what is going to happen what is happening what happiness means what knowing what you want means how there is no such thing why we couldn't possibly know when making these agreements for the first time, i wonder how many of us go through our lives never finding out and if there were a measuring tool where i would fall on the scale of not knowing anything,

would i be more than a thermometer sinking into a bottomless ocean,

let me tell you things neither of us will ever understand while we're both inclined to think we are more right than the other, maybe argue a little, debate these views, undress verbally and physically, or redress, red dress, blue dress,

tip toes through this story, eyes lips on fire, ice cold hands.

ship metaphor

slowly becoming a new ; growing old
neither of us knowing
[who i am]

what of the pieces that go missing'
or
are replaced by ones with different functions

Superpower #2

[R]ewinding any given moment and still be able to remember what never happened after all. No bullshit 'pause' or 'fast-forward' or any of those other options. Until the last moment of your living conscious being intact, you could undo and do retakes. E.g. punch someone in the middle of a conversation to see how they would react, but not have to deal with the consequences; jump off a cliff and you could still undo the (attempted) suicide as long as you do it before you hit the ground. Miscalculate by a fraction of a second, and you cannot go back.

Also, no 'reliving memories' -- except to the extent that your fallible human memory can re-create the moments you've already lived through. 'What you remember becomes what happened' quite literally.

[W]henever you decide to 'revisit a memory' it will change the course of events to an unpredictable degree, because of the incredible number of variables and you will never be the same person stepping in the same river.

social hangover:

morning after
the sobering up
oh god what have i done

does sitting in a silent room with people
ever make you wonder why anyone likes you;
because i get that feeling now

both as in,
get where you are coming from
and having contracted the disease

love poem

love is like a yo-yo:
i don't get the appeal
am bad at it and
fuck you

growing apart

implications
that we were ever
growing closer
more than walking together, and
going our separate ways

tootles, motherfucker