At least leave me a box of matches
So I can build my own fires

The Sahara desert
Is my garden
But I never could grow anything

We locked ourselves in boxes
& called them Relationships

I don't want to think about you
So I read about the latest Plane Crash

Talking to you is riding a roller coaster
I can feel the adrenaline
i remember the crash

Of the waves
And a bath/ a shower
It doesn't matter
No water is hot enough
To wash your flesh a  w     a       y

Underground
Hair still growing
My curls fall like the fibonacci sequence
Convincing me there's some pattern to this madness

And now
All that's left is
A mirror, a maus, and a Cashmere Cat

I used to date letter
A boy who wrote like an apology
Then I realized,
He was only good at explaining himself