Otters, Tea, & Poetry

rims

i don't really see the way

I don't really see the rim

I look down and

all i see

are the

 stretching lines of him

I hate the way he made me feel

I hate the tattoo on my heel

All the morals that he broke

All the stupid faultless hope

all the hours on my tires

All the fringing, twisting wires

Take it back

But i can't

I am hopeless

I am tired