I have nothing to write about
when I'm angry
just many colorless words to
speak at anyone with
open ears
I ought to be banished
from anything with a "send" button
when I am this way

she said his shirt
matched his eyes
when we both caught up
with him
my dear friend was notorious
for speaking nervously around him
when we both knew it was
me harboring all the
anxiety
well, they both match the
color of the only decent pen I could
find in hopes of masking my
own indecency

I have loved so wrongly
in this world
& will continue to do so
until my limbs bend and break
in the gusts of my
wrongdoing

the way he stares at me
through pictures
is enough for me to carve out
my beating heart
& offer it to him on a
silver platter
garnished with my bones

& he will never know

'cause poetry is so forlorn in
conversation these days
& I was never any
good at talking small
so why talk
at all?

when I can stare
& cry over silly pictures
of a silly man
who knows not what the color
of blue
can do
to silly girls
like me