i believe i was a brilliant poet lifetimes ago. but now the words fall from my lips all wrong.
my brothers are the only people on the planet i would dare to call mine.
i would fight for centuries to get my old self back.
i will be screaming until i can no longer make sound.
any type of feelings i had for you ran out the door and locked it.
another valentine’s day without you is another year of melancholy.
my grief chases me. like a hunter and his very favorite prey. brutal, persistent, ruthless.
though i am a young, privileged white woman, with nothing to complain of, sobs rack my body for years on end. my picket fence and shaggy dog can’t save me from this ugly world.
i am so terribly sad. someone must be watching the movie of my life for a good cry.
when i can’t sleep at night, it is your memory playing in my head that keeps me awake.
in march, time goes at a steady pace, but tomorrow it will be october and i will have not spoken to you since february and i will forget that i have ever spoken to you.