I collapsed back and marked the ugly beige paint once.
The word ‘accident’ formed thereafter and the
desire to keep going was like a hunger.

Day one hundred in a flurry of lost days.
No sun anymore
My only vitamins came from bottles and boxes and lips
The temptation to scrawl on the wall grew.

I want our hall in our future home
covered with words so when someone leaves
at a loss for what to say
there will be plenty of choice.