You'd think I wouldn't care,
It's been so long since I wrote it
But the loose strands of hair in this water
Says something completely different otherwise

Water drips from the tips
Of these fingers that wrote it,
That betrayed so many

The droplets creat a maze between
The hair on my legs until
They return back to their home

You wait to see what *******
I write about now
I wonder who would dramatically
Reveal their face in the neon glow
Of convenience store lights

You're a part of a circle
So it's not like you care
You want to live out my old work,
This isn't poetry I'm writing now
This is my new journal

From my fingertips
To your eyes
Free of charge

You wanna know what I would
Write in that same book all these years later?


I wonder what it would feel like
To rest my head on my knees in this
Lukewarm bathwater and feel
The skin

S t r e t c h i n g

over my ribs as I try to think
Of one good reason to still be alive


But I don't do that.
I don't have to.
I wash away the possibilities of you,
The regrets and mistakes,
The white cars and mean words

I wash them away until
I can finally think of them
And not
Feel
Like
Dying