folding myself between different arms to escape the emptiness. telling myself
this is the most forgivable time to be selfish, since i am rarely on my own side.
in a scared way, i love harder now. like the kitchen’s closed and after tonight
i will never feel full again. the biggest question of the month? whether all this
splitting open is good for me. i know – your heart must break regularly to hold more
wonder. but i think it just shows my heart’s hunger. fickle,
this awkward dance of feelings. where’s the jukebox? i have a quarter
and want to play a different song. i want a life where heartbreak & i finally get
along. i am tired of playing eve, waiting for God to tell me the difference
between what is good and evil. will another shot kill me? name the alcohol
name the boy. i’m still waiting on the report card of my morals to arrive in the mail.