Sunday morning

by Will Monigold

Again.
I tried to end
The world last night.
I think I’ve run far enough.
The thing about rain
Is that it makes
Everything look clean.
I suppose it’s the way she
Holds her mouth
When she kisses me.
I was born to be a fool
I had to have been
Otherwise my tools
Would fit
I could fix things.
I can still smell her
Still feel her.
I wish I was still
Pressed against
Her breasts.