not the hero,
with my hair thinning,
forehead wrinkles make themselves
at home, the walls i hide in,
his midnights a soft landing
into depression sunrises and
***** soda horoscopes
i can’t stop wondering, “is it me?”
the problem, everyone knows,
but no one remembers -
ticking timers on her shapeless body
feelings i paint by typing words.
i can’t stop searching for her,
my nails are tearing,
it’s not easy being the cool girl,
awkward and unrelenting
with my broken eyes,
always the villain,
never the bride