not capable of finishing anything
take my last poem.
about an angsty girl supposed to
be a young functioning adult now
and isnt capable of having dreams.
this was about me yet
yet i still couldnt add in the bits
about where i really chose
my first kiss to be with someone i didnt
even moderately enjoy as a person
(though he was good physically)
so love had nowhere
to go but up.
or how whenever the young girl partakes in
drinking with strangers for once in her goddamned life
she can lock herself in the closet
smile
and feel absolutely nothing