It’s morning again
I trace the blades of my ceiling fan until I get dizzy
It’s a familiar feeling
like when you’re fifteen and that senior boy hands you your first drink
I look at you in the middle of the night. I look for you in everyone.
I would be lying if I said you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.
Your laugh is loud like my dads and reminds me that we all picked different poisons: my dad, *****. you, whiskey. me, you.
You touch me, shower
I keep you on my skin until I hate myself for keeping you on my skin
You say my hair looks good long but my ends are as dead as this conversation
I love you even when you pretend to love me too.