Once I wrote it all out, tho
you won't believe me,
it was splattered on my floor
in rich, vibrant colors and non-colors,
non-existent breaths and streaks of sky,
I stepped around the letters
each morning when I awoke
from heavy sleeps with hair
tangled about my sweaty face,
everything was there, all we wished to say,
it was perfect, beautiful, a world unto itself,
the etching, the care, each curve and straight line
of it a truth much like death unavoidable, each fucking
lettered space unbelievably serene, I'll tell you
I kept each thought in pristine condition,
never dropped a sandwich crumb,
and it was hard, and it weighed on me
until I forgot
and I scuffed it, until I hated those old gashes and
lovely curls, that truth I'd seen enough of,
I spit on it this morning, in the cool
light with the toilet running,
I wrote your name on the walls.
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