when an emotional moth goes to the movies

We are all moths,

drawn to the flame.

It wont burn this time (a hope)

Fuck - my tears seem to come from nowhere.

From a movie with 8 laughs per minute.

But this juice box now tastes bitter and the popcorn lacks nostalgia.

Not like I made it.

Sixteen and wearing a bowtie (accessories include a crush and an unfounded anger)

Now I use a scratchy napkin to hide my tears before the lights come up.

Hide that this break in my reality was in such desparate need that I'm weeping in row 7.

I leave a voice note for my friend but wish I could come over.

That we were neighbors and doors never had locks.

Sit on the couch and let her hold me.

I'm not sad

But feeling - it sneaks up on you sometimes.

Not a bad thing

but always a consuming thing

I'll be ok.

I've already ordered Mexican takeout and have a netflix subscription.

The end (it's ever-present)

There's nothing for it.

And hey -

I see a flame.

It's going to be the one.

I'm sure of it.

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