i wish you'd stop saying you miss me
to smooth things over
it's almost as bad as when you say i love you
as if your words might fix
my eating disorder.

Even though I've been writing for years
(not that it's any better than when I started)
the title still holds true.

Words don't spill out,
thoughts don't process
like they used to.

Pieces need second checks for meaning,
thirds for grammar,
and a fourth for meaning.

Maybe it's the absence of physical affection;
certain chemicals aren't being triggered to release in my brain
but I decided if I couldn't keep my unspoken promises,
if I can't touch with a deep understanding of love
I will not touch at all.

It was shocking,
the impact one night could have
and so I have not had a second try
(or a six or seventh if we're counting).

I let the words of Thom Yorke
and Ezra Koenig say all that I cannot.

"Slowly we unfurl as lotus flowers
'Cause all I want is the moon upon a stick
Just to see what if, just to see what is
I can't kick your habit
Just to feed your fast ballooning head
Listen to your heart"

this last week
has me toasted and beat
sweatpants, same **** sweat shirt,
untied shoes on my feet
I dreaded every time I had go out
and cried with joy
each time I was back
in my
sheets

Seven bottles filled with candle wax line my windowsill.
It's took me fifty-six days to fill them.
A bottle holds about eight candles
and I only burn the candles on days I feel empty.