confessional

there’s contradictions everywhere

a comma

a dot

a drop of purple attention

when it’s dark outside and the lights are on

and the room is full but it’s empty

where we are inside

i wait with the kind of dread that get stuck in my incisors

my cheek a portrait of my wrath

chewed up and raw and in love

i don’t write poetry anymore

it doesn’t feel important

this juicy peach of summer getting ruined on the grill

like how the wind cuts the sun

and i feel cold with all these people

in a room absent of one

Thinking of you always.

Wishing you would know,