is that hair bleached blond

shoegazing beneath neon

the weeks gone and god you look pretty this eve

and god isn’t comfort all i need

are those new shoes

wyatt’s with the zip you

don’t care about the implications

of off hand comments made complacent

my hands are tied by words you’re saying

and looks you make moving your face

where is my home

it’s on my own

it’s in halted breath

whichever bed i rest

do i weigh too little

all the pains felt brittle

and the absent stares indicate my fear

to share my heart

overwhelmed by death & her eyes

never been so uncertain about the future and never been so ok with that uncertainty