i know you do crack with the kids down the road
and i know you smoke when im not around
your nails are turning to clay, your mouth
is going grey; you must think me such a fool
you must really want to laugh
watching me hide from all your friends
the boys with big hands, bigger fists
the girls who flush my pills
can you see the way i tremble?
can you smell the burns
between my thighs?
i caught you looking yesterday
it mustnt come as a surprise
you must have known how sick i was
you met me in a waiting room, didnt you
did you? i cant remember now
i suppose it doesnt matter
i suppose none of this does
hey your train leaves soon
id almost like to walk you there
id maybe like to say goodbye
id like to cry alongside you
but no—no i know i couldnt
its the worst thing of all
the last loss: oh
you must think
i want you
to go