i am a white empty room and there is no 2 o'clock august light shining through my window.
i think it skipped me because it thought no one was home.
i say i live in a house with too many rooms.
and that things are not supposed to love you.
i want everything to happen to me as it happens.
i am 11:12 pm.
i don't really know much, but once i heard that your fist is roughly the size of your heart
and when flies fall in love their brain is rewired to know only loving each other
and when one of them dies the others brain goes blank so maybe, i'm a fly.
i was born in the year of the ox, the month of the bull, and the body of a white rose.
ripped from my home, and given to someone who does not love me.

there will be nights
where i’ll stumble home, drunk,
in a dress clinging to me like a second skin.
with heels in my hand
getting down on my knees in front of the toilet
wrapping my arms around its porcelain neck
greating it like a friend or a past lover.
whispering apologies after vomiting my sorrows
down its throat.

There will be a time when i won’t remember
the faces i drove home with late at night.
or the ones i loved so dearly
and spent many sleepless nights
sobbing miserably over.

there will be boys i will ache for.
boys my mother warned me about
and my father keeps a knife in the drawer for.
boys whose names taste of smoke and regret.
who will leave in the morning
and i’ll never hear from again.

there will be times where i’ll lose myself
during the darkest hours of the night
and only you
will bring me back to reality.
and if you find me in that state
just hold me whilst i weep.