can't go back. talking to you at this point feels like trying to unshed a skin. uncomfortable and discontent, i think i am better off without the feeling of you looking at me like this. as if i planned it, as if i knew the taste of you would bend and snap, like an unwrapped ******* that sat too long. i knew people sometimes got stale like food but who was to say it wouldn't be different with you. unfortunately nothing is different; you are only you and i am only me, a girl with a thousand shed skins
at a loss for how to proceed.

i stand at the doorway and know where it goes.
i keep knocking and i wait for anyone but this ******* self.

who is my self? different people held together by a string? a shelf? a suitcase of forgotten touches and bad health?

i forget myself over and over again.
where are you?

we wait. together on the doorway, opposite sides.
no plant hangs from me.

freedom lays where you left her. bring her with you next time.
i wait at the doorway and stop.

knock.
hello me.

stop DRIVING me INSANE
i ask for NOTHING and you still disappoint.
i just want you.
you just want destruction.

crack it. my Finger stiff of cold. she doesn't care but i do, typing pop pop on keys too soft to snap. I'm full of **** and **** faced of me, praying for A New Thing to come along, any new thing works for me. hm. Wild Thoughts and yikes a little too much Love From Me. affectionate failure is still Bad when I am pretty.

bad things come here when i Say More Words than for me. Hold trinkets of apathy. Drop me.

i'm forgiveness alone in the booth. Ten cards from the deck of promises, two glasses mirroring my own. French. fingers shaky but on the inside, she holds her own hand. old. wood and wooden tables People talk. they hold their eyes and legs and wish they were not talking as they do. The talk is more, the talk is less. Words forget and for the Window Booth sit. alone. forgiveness.

two statues in red as the bird growls. the small chatter of a bear in flight, chattering and the clouds fall into it. fairy light toads pop into the windows of her sweater. she is alone! and the popcorn sizzles. cooking another tea bottle, another burning cup! she eats it and her fingernails grow. contentment in the soul comes with leaves. soup them together! grow his hair! wrap yourself in shower water and breathe outward. the inward air grows stale and forgets its leaves. remember.

two deer walk together in the Deep Sea. neither better or alone. she holds them until her fingers bleed. red dowries.

these days feel like the crumbs you get at the bottom of the cereal box. not half as good but i’m still reaching my hand in and scraping them from the folds at the bottom of the bag. dust in my fingernails and the gross feeling that comes with too much sugar and wishing i had another day, another bowl of cereal to end on, wishing i hadn’t taken so much already. i’m going to have to buy another box soon. too soon.

i like the old days.