meow

why do i crumble
fall into pieces of
oats and sugar
something beautiful
in a white bowl, but
a mess on the floor
when i wake up
in an empty house
why do i wither like
brown leaves
under brand new and
borrowed boots atop
autumn sidewalks
when i’m alone,
i’m alone,
i’m alone
it is not enough
to eat breakfast
however small
to wash my hair with
coconut milk
to not step out into
the busy street;
i freeze before the ice
touches me
i do not allow
the chance to warm
my own hands
i lie down, on
***** sheets,
and wait for someone
anyone
anything
to awaken me

You were a face of November
A face that burned through my mind
As I griped my phone with a shaky hand
And heavy defeat
I read our conversation
Splattered with the words
Of my most recent confession
And wondered
What I had said
To leave me
With wet hands
And another reminder
That I will never be good enough