Last 3 letters of the spring

You think I am ok. You think I am ok, don’t You

I bet You think I’m just fine

The payback’s like a boomerang. It remembers everything. It comes after everyone 

I didn’t New Year text myself back into your life – look at me growing up:

Too many espresso martinis

A glass of vodka half empty. I bet yours is always half full; I think it’s the patriarchy or my desire

to pull a Sylvia Plath 

I am joking, just joking, my oven is electric 

The floor’s wet: my chest split open 

Why the chest? Unspecified! 

Everybody knows the grief’s in the hips, duh

It’s the perfect lie: 

Too much pressure 

Too much to want

Too much to need

Not enough willingness to try (sad music playing in the background)

I do not qualify as a bullet point, nor do feelings mean anything 

You wouldn’t show mercy, nor would you knock on my door

some time in the far far ahead, after a protracted period of doing all the things you wanted to do with your life – eyelashes heavy; deep breaths on my couch. Except: I do not own a couch.

On the floor, yes, ok, on the floor – It’s the perfect description of hitting rock bottom 

But give it another six months…I dare you, or is this a promise?

The payback’s never too late nor too early. It remembers everything. It comes after everyone. 

Kneeling in the middle of the room, making you feel cool 

Do you want me to stop? Or, would you want me to join? Skilful mastery of performing for two – I can take care of us both.

Pretty little moments:

Unbiased trivia for hoes or never looking back in the name of dodging THE bullet?

Stalker alert or rolling our boulder up the hill? Intense you say 

As in: I’d die tomorrow if I could. I actually tried a couple of times. Some time between August and June

Everybody knows the second year’s always harder than year one. Why? Undefined! Or, perhaps

As in: crazy pathetic I kinda hate your guts now

Everybody knows it’s terribly romantic to die from a broken heart 

The floor’s wet: My chest split open. Kneeling in the middle of the room, making me feel – love tastes like Nivea body soap for men and capitulation…bubbles, bubbles everywhere