It is not a stab but a sudden pull.
I once was okay at the thought of your going
until it hooked on my sweater and
unraveled
it quicker than I could cut the string.
I do not bleed
but I undo.
I unbecome.

Without time to myself, I lash out.
With time to myself, I fall apart.
Within time to myself, I break down.
Without time, I’d be happier.
I’d be happier if I ran out of time.

One day, I will be able to count on myself to self-soothe
Instead of calling you a little after midnight
and still being upset.

I punish myself to make up for your forgiveness.
there is some visible part of Me that needs the pain.
i wouldn’t say I am masochistic or a sadist
Each evaluation of self proves both true instantly.
I don’t know if I have it in me to keep working on myself.
I just want to please us.

I shiver at the thought that one day
you might become the one that got away.

If self-fulfilling prophecies lay their claim,
I have sent myself to a early grave.

can i ask you for money again?

under closely monitored air conditionin
knees weak under warm street lights on cool nights
talk about runnin away n runnin from talkin
you gave me a heart attack sayin you were staying
You have a way of always saying just what Im thinking
unless the thing that I’m thinking bout is you
Sometimes I wonder if you can read my mind but never told me
cuz its a lot safer to pretend that you dont have a clue.
I’m ghost writing for a bird who cant read the lyrics
and swallowed her tongue when she saw you with her
Im a ghost riding down the street where we grew up
without glasses or wheels or air

I skipped four meals cuz you talked about her eyes
but i guess that means that were the same after all