a crossroads-
my fingers are drooping like dampened socks,
as I am changing like a
kitchen table hardens over spills and
senseless childhood arguments.

i’ve forgotten how to breathe as my lungs strain more heavily,
as drains reject water in hypocrisy and your image haunts the table like an apparition with no social courtesy.

the mirror has been less and less friendly. my hair feels like styrofoam.

i felt my worn-down sneakers attract the wet leaves like magnets in another New England autumn. i wondered why they didn’t repel me like logic, purpose, or your daisy-shaped palms.

we fight and bleed to stick to the bottoms of sneakers but winter will come and lovers will pass,
as any breeze will tell you.