All i find myself deeply caring for is

the discovery of new poetry

a cigarette on my roof at 12:43 am

the ink inside this pen, the paper underneath my hands

and that shoes inside the dryer noise

within my chest

and for some reason, nothing else sticks to me

it rolls off my skin like water on windows

puddling in front of my feet

darling, you don’t matter - maybe in someone else’s eyes

but in mine, you just don’t matter

*don’t take it so personally