a letter in the mail,
a three, four, five, or even six digit number meant for you to repay, sooner or later. but we both know the answer lies later than sooner
2.
in bed during broad daylight wearing his clothes,
missing, missing, missing
an empty space in your heart, vespers of fingerprints across your body
crying into your pillow til your eyes turn red and angry, bloodshot
defeat, the smell everywhere, damp.
where do loved ones go when they still exist, just not in relation to you?
3.
unfixable,
irreversible loss.

and finally, 4.
the screen.
tendrils of hair bunched into angry clumps in the palm of your hand,
blood dripping from eye to mouth,
a bored lumberjack with a garish mask flanked by black branches, auburn leaves
all of these things and a doll at the end of the dark corridor are nothing to worry about.