im watching the moon fade in
and out of dark blue
clouds just after
midnight on a wednesday
and im holding onto
the filter of this
menthol like it's
your hips,
close enough
to burn my fingertips
and hard enough to
bruise my knuckles
cause you called me 3 times
this week while i was sleeping
and now you won't answer
my texts
the grass is cold
in october
but id rather feel
the shocking chill on my thighs
than not feel anything at all
i guess it's getting bad again
because i can't stay inside
for more than twenty minutes
without feeling like im losing my
******* mind
i think i just need the sky
to feel small
cause lately im always
taking up someone else's space
and **** im asking for it
with the way
i keep replaying voicemails
of you screaming
at me from sixty three miles north
just to drown out his patient voice
cause id rather hear the chaotic
pain shaking through your lips,
so many miles out of my reach
than his carefully composed
monologue of peace and sanity
lying next to me in bed
and that scares me
that really scares me
*i wish you'd pick up your phone
i think there's something wrong