Black bed sheets, Big blush brush, back and forth.
Pouting, popping, posing. "Can't believe he's single!"
Oh my god. I know right.
I say with the expression of a taxidermied doe. Texting
until I want to pull my fingers off, First Class Ticket in a
bottle of Sky. I'm a ****** who can't drive and it's ironic
because I feel like I'm in high school again and I want to die.
Please ask me one more time if I think you look good,
as I reach to lift up the window, It's April and I'm cold,
I stare at the asphalt ground down from 6 floors up.
Contemplating how I managed to make it when I fell from heaven all those years ago.