The awkward left pen taps
In the valley of fingers
Its twin wet pink scraps
Of rotting flesh that lingers
In suffocating memories
Of musky clothes on
Strange beds, knobby rooted trees
That keep secrets. Dawn
Does not keep the cockroaches
Scuttling from dusty fridge floors
Shiny black back approaching
Tremendous speeds towards doors
Of guilt
In that two month escapade with that girl-
My best friend
The time when
Everything moved so fast and
It was all okay,
It was okay,
I was okay. Then I wasn’t.
Every guilt trip that left me yearning,
Every time I was stood up and left feeling empty
Not to mention the boys
He’s hardly even a reminder of
Anything- it’s buried so deep
When I hit the floor
I hardly knew how I’d gotten there.
It was all a mistake-
And yet it wasn’t.
Hitting the arena ground
That day a piece of me broke
Beyond the arm, the hooves pounding
In synchrony with
My jolted, distorted frame
That cockroach once left will not make it back
Under that fridge again
