as the sun rises from foggy lines and grey
snot-stained pillowcases, I gather enough
motivation to leave

my room and make breakfast
in my underwear. Black
smudges creased along my eyelids

that you will never care
to see. The shafts of the sunlight
through the blinds cause me to open

a book I know
I’ll never finish. My breakfast
is too cold now, so I throw

it. I know I belong
to myself but I don’t know
where to begin. I drag along

with my day and pretend you didn’t
know anything about my fucked up
past. I knew it would end, you

and I. Just by the way
that you told me you loved me,
but you didn’t

know how to hold me
when we crawled into bed. You didn’t
care to listen to my stories.

You bowed to your obligations while pushing
me aside. I knew this day would come
to an end because it always does.


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