unsubscribption
bottled freckles scraped from bare shoulders
collected trinkets to call your own
bottled freckles scraped from bare shoulders
born into a breathless panic
knees on mine underneath knit blankets
nothing knocking around in my head
knocking nothing around.
vacancy signs lit violently bright
sit surrounded by silence
the television is alone.
writing poems about your whispy bangs
because i can’t brave my mistakes
cataloging the crinkles in your nose
because i can’t build anything else
a monument to all of you
to shadow what’s left of me.
bottled freckles scraped from bare shoulders
and hope you don’t lose them this time:
at least it looked like laughing.
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