what flammable wrists he’d been given,
but deluge doesn’t discriminate body parts
the world must have forgotten
that explosions cannot be drowned.
sometimes when I close my eyes
in the shower and prose drowns
letters wick skin, flitting imagery screaming
for last breaths.
when I open my eyelids
they are heavy with drowning
droplets parked atop my lashes
how can I end something that is already finished?
the tide will come again
like it always does
(guided by the conducting of the moon)
flowers will come in spring
like they always do.
I think my best friend hates me/is ignoring me maybe or I’m paranoid again? And also my boyfriend is leaving forever in about two weeks and I’m likely not going to see or talk to him again once he’s gone, at least for a long time.
autumn plans? decay with the leaves and crawl into a hole until the snow comes to cover me up.