we walk through days
telling ourselves
that no one will accept us
and the raindrops roll down the pane
and the breath fogs up the place
where a hand lay
when the mind was transfixed
on headstones and graves

we walk through days
telling ourselves
that no one will accept us
and the eyes are dry caves
and a sailor's knot sits in the stomach
with no one to untie it
but just like milk
emotions have an expiration date

we walk through days
telling ourselves
that no one will accept us
and people are driving cars
and picking the last donut from the box
while someone is in a bathroom stall
hand and heart gripping tight
on something sharp