i sat up on a sinking down
over-grown messy hair scratching my face
and ***** plates piled in the sink
memories of a year ago flitter through my memory like old film
projecting sweeter and more saturated colors on a time I once loathed
why do things always seem better when they're from the past?
over-drawn lips
new curves
cracks and rolls
our to-do lists never seem to be complete
all we have is messy hair on our heads
and a sink full of ***** plates