i haven't seen you stay in one place for more than a few days,
like laying some roots will result in some catastrophic meltdown
like being noticed will cause sirens to scream out
"i want to be wanted, i want to be wanted, i want to be wanted".

isnt this the point, to pop up shop and take what little charity those
who know what being loveless is like can provide. in short bursts a heart can be mended, the wounds sewn up and put up for sale like a clean bill of emotional health.

till the view begins to stagnate and the bones of all the half-healed ex-lovers begin to ache inside, the embers of a burnt out husk in the chest smoulders with the promise of "it'll be better elsewhere."

"they might want me elsewhere." "someone will love you elsewhere."