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when the dusky twilight surrounds me physically, i've been warned that all my poetry consists of unrealistic sappy devotion and realistic dejection. so here's something lighthearted something i wish i could write while i'm forlorn too: i undressed myself in front of the mirror for the first time today. i did it without grimacing or shaking. my first instinct was to caress and kiss my skin to make up for when he did not. regardless it still turns into a heartbreak of words about him.
