Dark Blue Hours Comments

There's a river I mold with my hands. It's made of a second or two, it's made of dark blue hours, a thought I think I might not have had if I think hard enough, honestly if it was ever in my head I think it could have been a dream of you gone missing.

I chase down things I want to say to you but they can't make sound, they chatter and don't crystallize, they flee like wild things, they'll never come out right, I'll pull back and forth on this syllable instead and take it apart and put it together and take it apart and put it together and take it apart and
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