death by paper cut

ttyl

october growing pains, cold bones reside in me
on lonely nights like this, the midnight train passing me by
as i wish to go someplace further
not the back of an narcotics anonymous meeting;
we talk about hope
gratitude
the way i am wishing the world away with each day.
how my sadness has always been rooted in my heart
and sprung in my chest
festering with codependency of a new boy each week

but i miss you. boy of mine that lets his tongue tie on anything of importance. let go of that anger, and meet me at two am. where the tip of our shoes touch each other, your hand in my hair. but you don't love me. the door is always open, he says. and i'm almost proud for a moment. of his dispassion. and the way he never fails to break me down a little more.

october in your room, dirty rum and coke; lighting matchsticks in the dark and holding each other as if we'd be at a loss if we moved. but i'm inching closer to the door, and you laugh. i will always be the most unimportant person in your life.