Nothing but a Question Mark
Life, love—question mark.
I don’t know if this will pass,
or if everything I try to embark
will ever become something real.
But I’ll be good to you,
or at least I’ll try to be.
Nothing but a question mark.
I’ll see you in so many ways,
and I try to understand your days.
I’ll compliment your dress,
then somehow make a mess
of all these things I feel inside my chest.
Read Next: O My A Cloud, and It Cries
Read Next → O My A Cloud, and It Cries
Read Next O My A Cloud, and It Cries
Author’s note on “Nothing but a Question Mark”: a whispered map of uncertainty in love—the quiet panic of wanting to be good to you, even while not knowing if any of these tender, independent lines from Letters from Xhale will ever quite land.
