i. the night you called me over-sensitive was the night
i filled myself with empty soda cans. i attempted to wash away
your scent. 50. 51. 52. times.
it all still stinks of you.
ii. you used to make me wait until three in the morning.
you never apologized. the last time was until four, and you greeted me
with a kiss that peeled my lips off,
threw me against the wall feeding me words and stale fragments.
iii. the night you said you were ******* her should
have been it. instead you held me,
and i imagined her blonde white hair, her pasty thighs bouncing.
you used to say you loved my cinnamon skin.
iv. you want to return to what we were.
but we were never anything except petal filled wishes and
gluten-free mistakes.
v. do not look for me anymore,
i am gone. i will be gone. i will be kissing stars and men with
accents and minds that are unlatched.
do not look for me anymore.