this is your fault

There. I said it. In this city, none of Them matter because this week you aren’t here.

I stare at my ceiling after I turn off the light. If you weren’t so wonderful, I could rid myself of the focus. If you weren’t so trapped like a bird in my heart. It’s innocence skinned to flesh. New to air and miserable, but joy spattered. It’s worse in the darkness. I can hear you breathing. The strength of your smile could send me to crime, but it’s keeping me from regrettable shallow incidents. It’s a toss-up. It’s a glamour.

I hate the need I get once a month.

Kill me.
Just tell me what I need to get it damned well addressed.

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