I crave that which is bad for me
But you weren't bad, just bruised

               *I think I'd fall for anyone
               with a black and blue heart

You're too nice,* he said. Just too sweet.
Sweet will make you sorry.

Coming home to her childhood bedroom
with the glow in the dark stars dabbed on the ceiling
Unfinished
Coming home to the broken kitchen chair that wobbles
as she sits down for dinner of toast and a pop ****
Unsatisfied
Coming home to friends who no longer feel like friends,
who no longer are friends
Unsettling
Coming home to the south side of the city
where every pothole is a metaphor
Uninspired
Coming home and tipping her head back
to keep the tears from spilling out

She is coming home and coming
*undone

Feelings—
*fickle
frustrating
fragile