the last time I wrote my hair was shorter, copper, colourful and vivid. I wait because that’s what I was taught to do; you bleed until what you crave consumes you. until your head is afflicted by the fervid, dark feelings. when I crawl around my every day, I find pieces of you. in plantain chips and Plato. in wool coats and white coffee mugs. it's impossible to tear myself from you.