alone
and smell like
smoke.
blond marlboro
and owned
by emotion.
lonely wind
combs
my skin
reminds me
what I've
missed.
some loss
of innocence.
sex in sand.
powders.
flowers
& something to
call
ours.
hands on
my breasts
while I scrub
dishes.
I wish my
sheets smelled
like sex
and not
tide.
I wish I could
wake up
and not cry,
eat eggs
and sleep again
and wake up
vile
with a
crooked smile
and aisles
of ache.
I feel like
a mile
of mistakes.
miss takes
a walking
earthquake
and a sick
inner bitch
I can't
shake.
I want
to rid
all of it.
