nothing is refreshing

doomed to wake up
with the afternoon sun,
feeling
all the same things

i pick at you
the way i rip
my scabs from me,

bleed like i do
so i have reason
to go on like this

love has never
been about the
flowers

how you tear at my flesh how
you push your short
fingernails into my fragile stature how
you manage only
slight fragments unfathomable shards of me
of my mistakes how
i fit entirely down your throat how
swallowing my flaws is no
issue

white sheets
the hum of the
ceiling fan

and you are absent

lay me beside the daffodils,
they do not bother any one