there was this time in the park
a frosted, gray-misted November
me, myself
on the brown benches

my head seemed forever tilted
to the right
my head didn't know
but my heart knew

I was looking for a yellow spark
hidden in the crowd of wispy passerbys

I was waiting

for you.

it seems silly when i think about it
when I pause and force
my body to stop, halt
freeze, think rationally
it's terrible to be the only one
who leaves their entrails everywhere
nothing will come out
when I squeeze my heart anymore

I have this amazing way
of hurting myself
more than I need to be hurt