I am leftovers
disappointing takeout
you spent too much money on
(you're supposed to be saving)
sitting in the back of the fridge
guilt keeping me there long past expiration
though I'm inedible

I like to hope that my stomach aches
and sluggish breath, heavy head
are symptoms of childhood dramatics
turned teenage angst
when I'm evicted from my teens
I'll probably call it a quarter life crisis
even so, I've accepted its permanence

I wish on dandelion fluff
variations of the same thing
that one morning I'll wake
from a night of giggles with people I love
swallow down papaya tablets
and the sickening feeling will actually dissolve

My happy is like hot glue
dripped on fingers - accidental
quick to stick
when it cools it molts
takes my fingerprints with it
leaving my finger tips raw

I can't keep secrets, especially my own
they like to creep up my throat
slither out unannounced
while I'm on car rides; restless
they can't hold still for the four hours
that get me everywhere I know now

I used to be incapable of shutting my eyes
when the cosmetologist rinsed my hair
it felt like a trick
like shed crack my neck on the sink
as soon as I relaxed
instead I'd count ceiling tiles to avoid eye contact

Now I feel proud
when I fall asleep on the train
or with someone else in my bed
I count how long I can squeeze
my eyes shut in the cereal aisle
forcing trust to prove something to myself