why do i crumble
fall into pieces of
oats and sugar
something beautiful
in a white bowl, but
a mess on the floor
when i wake up
in an empty house
why do i wither like
brown leaves
under brand new and
borrowed boots atop
autumn sidewalks
when i’m alone,
i’m alone,
i’m alone
it is not enough
to eat breakfast
however small
to wash my hair with
coconut milk
to not step out into
the busy street;
i freeze before the ice
touches me
i do not allow
the chance to warm
my own hands
i lie down, on
***** sheets,
and wait for someone
anyone
anything
to awaken me

is it cold in the water?
were you shadowed by distress?
did your void turn to wonder?
do you hurt any less?

it must have been the current
everybody said
but half the life you spent
you did already dead

i write everyone
i love
into poetry
how telling it is
that i do not
do the same
for myself

Starve
To extinction
Anything that feeds
From your peace