could someone please fill the lines of their notebook with my name
write poetry
they may or may not wanna tell me about
but it keeps them awake at the witching hour
and they want my lips to leave marks on their pillowcases
they want my voice to ring throughout their hollow hallways
echoing through their bitten hearts
so i can finally be wanted
and i won’t have to stay up at the witching hour, crying tears of loneliness cause i’ll have someone who’ll sketch my eyes with charcoal and construct a poem out of my sadness and we can be best buddies
**** it
i wish it was all that easy.