I call me
Heartless
You call me
Darling.
I don’t know
where things will
start to make sense
again and I don’t know
if I really want them to.
The golden shutters
sitting on my windowpane
are getting bored without
a show––
reckless wonders underneath
threadless fabrics.
The liquid lovely hiding
in my drawer
wants me to drown myself
in her numb flesh and lonely
giggles and sad hiccups.
I call you
broken
but what am I?