I am living in a space where
no one can hear me,
but people are talking.
Always talking.
They talk at me, but
never with or to. I
have a bad memory,
no memories at all.
And I used to believe it.
There's a corner with
my name on it, and
I am its only visitor.
Sinking down further, I used
to despise it, usually when
staring at the ceiling after
waking from another nightmare.
But now, I wrap myself up,
and learn to smudge my smile.
How to empty my brain,
my body, my desires,
into a little corner where no one,
ever again, can touch me.
To people who are blind to me,
does this look like darkness?
If so, perfect.
My black cloak is working.
YOU ARE READING
TO FAIL SO FLAWLESSLY
ПоэзияEDITS IN PROGRESS: A prose-poetry chapbook exploring themes of insecurity, doubt, lost fabrics, and what it means to fail so flawlessly.
