i will be
lying on the nearest
couch you can find;
a cigarette clasped loosely
between my fingers
a bottle of jack on the
floor beneath me.

i will be
wiping at my mascara,
pretending i've not been
crying; my shirt soaked
with the memories of the
familiarity of my
nightmares.

i will be
sitting on the roof
above all the skeletons in
my closet; singing
to myself and trying to
convince me that i'll
be okay.

i will be
haunted again by a past
i never knew
whispers of a life
i never lived
screaming my voice hoarse
with tears from tomorrow.

i will be.
i will.
i.