Speak to me but only in whispers late at night
and please try to remember what is said because
i don't want to explain myself again come morning.
please disregard my love letters because they don't
make sense to you, and they probably wouldn't
to me either.
Last night I went through photos of 5 years
I am now clay, bitter reds
hands dry and you're down the avenue
drinking sorts of whiskey and wine
i am just trying to be
as cute as i can be
all huddled up in fetal position
poison/sorrows and listening
to nothingness nothing
conversations of
if I were stranded on a desert island.
Let's think, let's not think
such questions and bare ourselves
with facts and feelings no matter
how fiction
in fetal position
beating myself up for
social time wasted.
I am not short term committed to you
for life.
She didn't know you and therefore
did not mistake you for
versions of strength
working man, not sad at all and so not
broken winged.
(we are fooling each other)
we are doing it ourselves.
(Please) let's mistake this for sometime longer
because the cold is letting itself in through
the cracks in my window, and being close
and being imperfect
is (was)
