/lit/ - Literature

Turning against the tides of time, I feel the most resistance late at night
It is in these nights that I conjure up a whimsical fantasy narrative
To wonder and wonder what would love is for motive
Awake and sober just born to ponder a breath of air in this December
For this snow-backed story, when the tide is especially high and punishingly cold
I dreamt of her and I in a day better than old.