when i see you doing great things i see myself becoming smaller compared to you.
i didnt mean to become this small.
grape sized
skinless and tasteless
somewhere on the bottom of your refrigerator
i’ve been writing love letters to you
(open it, you’ll see)
i used to think i had a target
the target moved
it turned blue and i lost interest in seeing for 313 days
now it’s 7:13pm and i’m thinking of what color you wish your eyes were.
(i used to wish mine were blue but i decided brown is nice too)
once we exchange names it becomes too real and i lose interest.
my real love is a wall
with no face and no reactions
but they’ll listen for as long as i can talk
why can’t we be in a poorly lit kitchen
with a fan moving above us,
sitting against the cabinets speaking softly,
"i think we should get a pet rat"
"i think that’s a terrible fucking idea"
i feel so formless and looking for something to sculpt me when i’m fully aware only i have the correct tools for this .
"what a bad idea"
before and after everything
