the vortex

this happens again and again.

you are the scrawl, the
faded dull white writing on
a murky piece of blackboard.
i am the silent scribe.

this is my duty, you
see to always write and
keep our records for posterity.
always drawn back to you.

magnetised we are not, but
still we gravitate towards one
another as if we were.
these records won’t keep themselves.

time for a new ledger.

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